6 August 2012
My fingers lightly trailing the spines of hundreds of books.
Waiting and watching for one to speak to me.
The fire spits and lashes in the delicately carved fireplace. An oak desk sits in the dusty corner littered with aged papers and quills. An ancient globe rested on the threadbare carpet collecting grime. Dirty cobwebs stuck to the windowpanes shielding the library from the fierce sun.
My hand came to rest on a hard bound blue book "Alice In Wonderland" my favourite.
I twirled around and walked over to the cobweb scattered old window and sat on the soft window seat. I opened the thick novel and lost myself in its exciting and mystical depths.
Library • Opuss № I