Sundress and books: summer story
A woman who reads books, cannot love easily, she is only looking for the spiritual counterpart that resembles her small details
- Dostoevsky
She was attached to books since her childhood, as well as reading them. She loved their pictures, shapes, and elegant appearances. She was attracted to their titles and fascinated by the colors in their covers. She looked closely at big words, passing her fingertips over her while petting her. She made intimacy between her and every book she read as if she was raising A soft puppy or a cute cat.
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She grew up in the shade of trees in the company of books, in the greenness of spring, and in the summer breeze that refreshes the soul, near windows and their curtains, in the corners of the house in winter days, and near a fireplace that gives the house an abundance of tenderness and a comfortable stillness.
Books and her reading taught her the passion for details, her dresses were beautiful, elegant as her books, and as friendly as the stories she read, she sat or lay in her jumpsuits while she read a book like a princess, dreams fly with her in her words and thoughts, but she was equipped with wisdom and careful consideration of things.
She often thought of dancing while reading, and she was struck by bouts of rapture while she was ecstatic with summaries of phrases and ideas, and crossed dreamy worlds, and reached distant islands and countries that she did not know before, and met many people and new personalities for the first time.
She was strong and soft, she was deeply beautiful as the depth of wisdom, the consideration of her plunges after the first magic of the beauty of her image, and travels far into the depths of her soul and its labyrinths, where there is no language but the talk and embrace of souls...
