I don’t remember my first time stepping into a bookstore, but I’m sure I was bewitched. Every bookstore smells almost the same. Except for used bookstores — those smell even more profound than new. Sweet, musty, sometimes with a hint of glue.
Alice Sebold’s memoir, Lucky, is riveting, moving, terrifying and uplifting all at the same time. The subject matter of this book made it incredibly difficult to get through emotionally, however, I couldn’t stop turning the pages. I was encompassed by her seemingly triumphant yet blatantly torturous climb up from the rubble she was left in after her violent rape.
I love to read. I love navigating my way through a thick plot, losing myself in the characters, flipping pages uncontrollably, without even realizing. I can travel the world and take a walk in any shoes while reading a book.
