The sky here. . .

Just sit for some time under this starless sky, and you'll know it's really nobody's fault...

Books are my morphine. I've got to be in a storyline other than life's to be able to live. My long time disease, reality makes me sick!

"Life could be wonderful if people would leave you alone."
Charlie Chaplin

Books are a lot like people; to a certain few you get hooked, for life.

Permanent means dead; And the longer a temporary takes, the greater becomes the illusion of permanency. To get stuck in the webs of this illusion is to step closer to death. 

Life happens only in a set of temporaries. Each time you close and open a new one, it's as if you were born again....

Fallen. . .

A tiny bird fallen from a tall tree hosting a small nest;
Right after a sudden cruel rain;
Would all the world get together to find him his mother if he screamed all the way?

Who would stop and care, for a tiny scream, let out from the bottom of a tiny heart,
right after a loud rain?

“She loved to walk down the street with a book under her arm. It had the same significance for her as an elegant cane for the dandy a century ago. It differentiated her from others.”

--Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being