I don’t just read books—I live in their worlds, carrying pieces of each story in my soul. Every time I open a book, it’s like stepping into another life. I’m no longer confined by who I am or where I am; instead, I become part of something greater, something infinite.
When I read, I don’t just watch the story unfold—I feel it. I’ve stood on the deck of a ship as storms roared around me, the salt spray of the ocean sharp against my face. I’ve sat beneath cherry blossom trees, watching petals drift like snow, feeling a quiet peace that lingers long after I’ve turned the page. I’ve walked the dusty roads of ancient lands, learning wisdom from sages, and I’ve faced dragons, my heart pounding with both fear and exhilaration.
Each book leaves a mark, etching its world into my soul. I carry with me the bravery of the characters who faced impossible odds, the heartbreak of their losses, and the triumph of their victories. Their stories shape my own—teaching me to see beauty in the mundane, to find strength in adversity, and to dream of possibilities beyond my reach.
The worlds I’ve visited in books aren’t just memories; they’ve become a part of me. They make me richer, more compassionate, more alive. Through them, I’ve lived a thousand lives, and with every story I read, I grow in ways I never thought possible.
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