Don’t you just love the feeling you get when you’ve been engrossed in a book for hours and you’ve completely disregarded reality, to the point that you’ve forgotten that there’s someone else in the room, and you finish the book and it feels like you’ve been asleep for a hundred years?
It’s a sort of a poignant, satisfied sort of feeling. You’re glad you’ve read what you’ve been reading, but you want to stay in the moments created by the author and you know you can’t.

Sigh.

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