As I walked in between the aises and moving like a crab from shelf to shelf, I wish time would push me further back into the past and keep me there. It was almost familiar; the smell of crusty old books with their verging coffee stain kinda brown rather than yellowed, overhandled pages when you flipped them real fast. The sort of pungent smell that hit your nostrils...and the immense concentration which resulted in the most spectacular silence, and internal conversations and adventures. If dogs could see colors, they'd see the most colorful spectrum hanging just above everyone's heads.
It was just like this, her room. It's a small room, really. The single-sized bed with crimson red sheets and white laces found its rightful place just beside the door, tiny bookcases housing the world's knowledge and secrets parked and lined the right angle of the left side of the rectangular room and bed. A desk with more hard covers sitting on the left edge remained unmoved and sandwiched between the bookcases and a wardrobe while strings of fairy lights criss-crossed, leaving intricate trails across the room's perimeter, doing wonders to light up exclusive spaces in the room with tiny bulbs emitting the softest, warmest and most comforting lights...and that to me, was home.
