Gawd. When you finish the last page of a wonderous book, and it just lingers on your tongue like the last bite of ambrosia. And you sit, holding time tightly like you can stop it from moving foward. Hold this moment, this feeling, for even were you to read and reread and reread, no other time will ever be your first again. No other moment will ever be this very moment, this new and haunting taste left in your mouth. This is what reading is. This is what magic is…

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