1. Sometimes when I’m reading a book that is particularly good, I will stop when a sentence suddenly appears that makes my breath catch in my chest. Paralyzed by the affecting nature of this sentence, I bring the book close to my face and rest it on the bridge of my nose. Pages pressed cold against impressed cheeks, I urge my breath back to its normal habit by breathing in the book. The smell of any book has a certain talent. Lying this way with my eyes closed and the particularly good book resting over my nose, smelling so perfectly of revival, I’m able to bring myself back to read another day.

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