There is a feeling right after you finish a book. A feeling of slowly removing yourself from the world and story that held you bound for the hours sprawled out on the couch and the time reading in the library. A feeling of coming back to reality, not necessarily for a better or worse reality, but one that is solidly your own. A realization comes with the conclusion of a book- that your finale is not yet here. The climax and plot twists are still evolving and some are around the corner for me, inspiring fear, excitement, and amazement all at the same time. But the theme has already been introduced and cleverly explored in the beginning chapters and I know something is coming. Something bigger than me, bigger than words, bigger even than the collectively shared experiences on this theme. Something that part of me already knows somehow. So I shut the book reverently and rise from my chair, to go out and meet it.
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