A World Without Books?

the novelist Colm Toibin once recounted a story about observing a Cantonese man sitting on a Kowloon footpath reading a book. the man's face was stern with concentration, his finger tracing the line being read. at times, the men's expression would screw up in frustration at his progress. finally, the reader looked up at the sky, his face beaming. whether from a sudden joyous facility with the act of reading, or revelation from what was written, or delight at how the story resolved, it doesn't matter. what mattered is he was in possession of something deliciously private - a connection between him and the writer, between the real world and the world inscribed upon the pages.
what would the world be without books? what a depressing and absurd idea.
- miguel syguco -

like to read more? reader's digest september issue page 15.