Five hundred fifty thousand one hundred and forty-seven.

Otherwise known as an infinity in a finite number of words.

When you open a book, you have a limited time to spend with it. Once you get to the very end, that’s it, there’s no more. But when you open a book, there’s an entire world encase within its pages, yellowed or new. The world that is held safely within the pages of a book is infinite. It’s also an escape from your own current reality.

When you open a book, you could be fighting in a war, riding on a train, falling in love, killing Dark Lords, seeing wondrous displays of magic…you could be doing anything, living anywhere. You’re among friends, when you open a book.

It’s magical.

Incomparable.

That feeling when a new book arrives, when the first words are read, it’s like nothing else in the world.

That feeling when you open an old favourite…it’s like returning home, to the place you belong.

Five hundred fifty thousand one hundred and forty-seven.

An infinity.

One hundred twenty-two thousand six hundred and eighty-five

An infinity.

One million eighty-four thousand one hundred and seventy.

An infinity.

Sixty five thousand seven hundred and fifty-two.

An infinity.

One hundred and eighteen thousand nine hundred and thirty-three.

An infinity.

The book is open now.

Welcome home.

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