There are many things in life that are more valuable than a stock of money. The tiny details noticed by the open mind, the senseless conversations shared between equal souls, the pause in a song, the irrelevant things that can be the whole island to Miranda’s world. Seconds spent in a book store, crowded by travelling people, working, thinking, hurrying, and amongst them there is you. Deep inside a novel recently discovered. Calm music surrounds you from nowhere, everywhere. Swirling around in a constant orbit, soothingly embedded in the story told between the words. Curled together in a little corner you sit, books covering the little body on the floor. High in the ceiling, long against the walls, rising on the tables, the floors are filled with books unread, ready to tell their story. “Feed on me, I’ve got a nice little tale to share”, they shout in a lulling voice, beaming alongside your thoughts. There is too much to read, too much to discover. Book after book fall upon you, trapping you in a circle of knowledge. Time leaves, and there is nothing that can hinder you. Curled together in a little corner you sit, books covering the little body on the floor. The books speak, and you are listening.