Books were never the far corners of the garden for me. They didn't provide the warm hum of somewhere nobody could reach me. The words didn't trickle behind my ears or reveal perfectly uniformed beads in spiralled paragraphs like only the spiders could. I didn't read because, unlik most children, I wasn't transported by the words to a faraway land in the way that 'only books can'.
Now it's different. I'm not flung headfirst into a mist of punctuation, no. Now I use the words to fill my ears like cotton wool. The world I'm in consists of four glass walls that muffle the sounds of the world, but ultimately, books can't shelter me from the rain.