I want to get away from my thoughts, if only for a while. I want to let myself fall into the words of another. I want to enter the separate reality of a book, not even a good book, just a book. Good books and bad books, they are just the same. A bad book is the best book, as is a good book. I want to engross myself in the serenity of a book store. Not a mainstream one. Not the ones with the new "Top Sellers" and "New Releases". No. I want to go to one that has books unheard of. I want run my fingertips against the worn spines of the classics. The neglected. The water damaged. Those are the best. Ripped, dog-eared, wrinkled and stiff pages. I want to go to a book store that overwhelms you solely with its aroma; old books. I want to sit surrounded by stacks of books. I want my hardest decision in that moment to be which of the fourteen books I've picked out I should buy. I want to lose myself in the world of literature. I want to share that world with someone. I want someone to be there, appreciating the smell and the feel of people's thoughts and memories. Someone come get lost with me.