What is it about a good book that we all love? The feel of the paper? The smell of it? From the growing popularity of e-readers, there must be more to it than that.
Perhaps it is the combination of words that places an image in our minds — a story, a life. What causes us to be drawn into that life — to feel fear when they fear, or fall in love when they fall in love? What makes us keep turning the pages until we reach the end, and only then do we set it down with a sigh, glad that we can take care of the growing mound of dishes in the kitchen sink, but already missing the intimate connections we had with the characters in the book? Who else would let us see their thoughts, and know their most hidden emotions? We have cried with them, laughed with them, grown with them — lived a part of their life.
Life. The human experience. For better or worse, and in all extremes. That is why we read.
This is why I write.