Read. Wander. Repeat.
There are places we can only visit by turning the page.
As children, we wandered without hesitation. We disappeared into wardrobes, crossed bridges with dragons, drank tea with rabbits, and found secret gardens hidden just beyond ordinary life. We never questioned whether those worlds were real enough to matter. They shaped us just the same.
Somewhere along the way, many of us traded wonder for productivity. We became too busy to linger over stories or imagine what might be waiting just beyond the next bend in the path.
This little afternoon was a quiet invitation to remember.
A stack of well-loved books. A blanket in the meadow. Time to read, dream, and wander wherever the pages decided to lead.
Perhaps the greatest gift a book gives us isn't an escape from reality.
Perhaps it helps us return to it with fresh eyes.
Here's to getting wonderfully lost.