Do you remember?

Some say reading is a dying art. But in a dying race struggling to remember simple ideas of humanity, it’s still more alive than the rest. Most of us remember important things through associations; heartbreaks become a song, first job becomes a wristwatch, someone’s death becomes the reminiscence of a conversation.

I always remembered things with books. The face of the writer became the face of the feeling then.

Stephen King became Nightmare.

Franz Kafka became Delusion.

García Márquez became Magic.

Woody Allen became Confusion.

Ruskin Bond became Leisure.

Haruki Murakami became Loneliness.

And Memory always remained a bittersweet getaway.