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I Can Not Know About Reading

Decent Essays

I cannot remember a time where I have been without a means to express myself using either text or words. One of the primary ways I express my language, or I guess, where language was expressed to me was through books and text. I cannot remember a time where I could not read, where I could not have access to the written text. Some of my earliest memories are about learning to read and just about reading in general. Books give off a certain essence of learning, knowledge, and command of language so that even the smallest sentence can have your insides twisting with suspense. Overall, this is what draws me to books. The spoken languages may not affect me in a certain way, but written down, it has had such an impact on my life. Books, ever since I could read, make me feel surrounded by knowledge and immersed in the amazing imagery that the author took time to carefully put together. Whenever I crack open a book I feel content. Like that feeling you get when you close your eyes and relax in front of an open fire in winter. It’s the feeling of cool water washing over you in the summer, washing away the overbearing heat. It’s the feeling of snow brushing against your face in the winter as it follows its descent to the ground. The feeling that I get when I open the thick cover of a book is comparable to being lifted away from reality and put into another one far away from the woes of real life. Books, and the language they hold are what make me happy. I started to learn how to

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