The feel of that yellowing page between the fingers and the smell of old knowledge fills my being with manna… the manna that every book lover enjoys. An antique bookstore is the perfect temple that holds this manna – a manna that graces my personal library and has grown in abundance since the time my parents thrust the first hardboard book into my infant hand.
Since then I crawled around with it, chewed on it and slowly learnt to flip through those cardboard pages that were filled with colourful pictures that mesmerized my innocent mind. As years passed by, my tiny bookshelf started getting filled up. Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, Enid Blyton, Noddy, Famous Five, Secret Seven… my mother had read them out aloud long enough until I could devour the stories on my own.
Ever since, I’ve always felt a need to read a few pages before turning off the lights for the day – more so fiction to factual....
