Books are much like people. There are times when you revel in their company, basking in the brilliance of each page, impatiently awaiting the start of the next chapter. At other times, the heft of their company is akin to waiting for a train in the rain, fighting for space on the platform as you gnaw at your itchy, woolen sweater and squirm in your soggy, stinky socks, wishing for the experience to finally end so that you can return to the delusional comforts of your happy place.
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