Suddenly got hit by this bad wave of homesickness... for my books, of all things. My Hobbit book, my Pride & Prejudice book, my Enchanted Forest Book, and (because of the movie which I am positive I am going to be dissatisfied with) my Narnia books. I think that of everything I own, my children's books are the thing I treasure the most.

As a kid, my mom bought me all kinds of books with fantastic illustrations and even now I love reading them from time to time because the pictures are so pretty and well drawn. Plus, they are classics! You just never tire of them. I would just flip through them to look at the pictures but it is somehow more satisfying to read the book and only allow yourself to linger on the illustrations once you have reached the proper page. Much like building up to a climax.

Although, now that I think about it, I am wondering why they had such intricate drawings for books whose key demographic likes to colour suns red and moons orange. Maybe it is for the parents who read books to children.

And now that I think about that, the only book I ever recall being read to me by either of my parents was the Bible. Oh, and Puddle Lane books.

Oh right... Puddle Lane books. Now I remember why my parents never read to me. Once I got old enough to read by myself, I would lie on the bed and read to them.

I wonder... Do they even print Puddle Lane books anymore?