Reading a travel memoir on the train and it feels like stacking journeys: one in pages, one in motion. Parallel quests syncing like perfectly times side lore
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That specific smell of a brand new book. The crackle of the spine when you open it for the first time. My whole weekend is about to disappear
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Traveling with a good book feels like caring two worlds at once. One unfolds before your eyes, the other inside your mind
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