It is perhaps not an overstatement to say that humans are, at their core, wanderers.
Books are often staple travel companions. But as the reader leafs through its pages, they are blanketed by the warmth of its faint-yet-familiar scent, and submerged into a linguistic hinterland hiding infinite possibilities. As pages and letters metamorphose into a world unfettered by human limitations, books become much more than mere companions we literally travel with. Rather, they are transfigured into vehicles through which we embark on a more figurative journey—one of the intellect and the imagination.
It is perhaps not an overstatement to say that humans are, at their core, wanderers.
Books are often staple travel companions. But as the reader leafs through its pages, they are blanketed by the warmth of its faint-yet-familiar scent, and submerged into a linguistic hinterland hiding infinite possibilities. As pages and letters metamorphose into a world unfettered by human limitations, books become much more than mere companions we literally travel with. Rather, they are transfigured into vehicles through which we embark on a more figurative journey—one of the intellect and the imagination.
