Books are a huge part of a writer’s life. We love our books. I wrote this small piece while looking at the numerous manuscripts stacked on my shelves and remembering the many times I rearranged my collection. I also thought it might be a fun way to baptise my new tablet by posting this as its first official text.

Neatly lined up like wooden soldiers, words march across colorful bindings, engaging me in secret conversation.

Their titles speak of molten sunsets, sapphire skies, twinkling nights, courageous animals, lost hikers, secret crushes, broken hearts, mended hearts, grand adventures, the wonder of our world, the mystery of new worlds, calamitous events,  peaceful moments, relationships, obsession – an unending list of chronicles waiting to be ogled by eager eyes.

And then, I sweep them from the shelf, watching them tumble like falling leaves, and I lay them out in a new order,observing a new compendium of conversation emerging  from their twisted heap.

One will be plucked from the fray to spend the night in adoring hands beneath the soft light of a reading lamp, whispering its secrets to my captivated mind.

 Happy reading everybody.