Between layers of warm lines and cups of book marks, I lay in a state of renewed bliss counting the pages left for the end of the day. The quiet rustle of the pages lull me into a deep sleep as I curl up inside my favourite book, drinking in the sweet aroma of old books. I wrap the words around my cold brown body and let my mind wander through the maze of stories that await their turn. Sleep catches me and I surrender my inhibitions to the author, ready to plunge into the depths of dark psychedelic horrors.
koinophobic diaries 