Just a dim light, mountains and mountains of books and magazines. They need not be properly arranged or dust wiped off their covers, every single page is all ready to transport its readers to where it intends them to be at, whilst they remain focused and intact with its content.
There should be no time nor space, whether in ancient Rome or romancing oneself in modern Paris, you don’t know me and I certainly am not there to meet you, but we are there at the same time because of the one love of our lives–reading. And we stay close to each other in the narrow corridor or limited space provided amidst the books and the stains and/or stench of the old and yellow-paged histories written on papers. Still, the senses got all sensitized and inner souls awakened to the dance of the magic and wonder inhibited in those pages. And at the turn of each of those pages, our distance increased as we moved on to our own destinations drawn out for us in our reading. So near yet so far, until we return to what is defined as reality by the less than imaginative brain.
Hiding one’s emotions, maybe depicted in a wry smile or a teardrop, even allowing a smile or laugh which would normally be suppressed in broad daylight, one feels totally safe and secured in the humble abode. Following a light gossip picked up from the tabloids or some serious discussion lingering on since historical setting decades or centuries back, the conversation could be sweetened with a cup of tea or coffee brewed to allow its aroma to fill the room. Perhaps, a thin slice of cheesecake while sipping away a cuppa after a sigh of relief or as an indication of one resigning to one’s fate, the dialogue between one who speaks and one that speaks even louder through words were exchanged in a cordial manner.
While immersing oneself in a world of books, a little music from the Classical Bach to Rachmaninoff, or a sensual Jazz, even slow Rock to swing one’s mood to its variety of notes…