Bookish Worlds

Not long ago J.K. Rowling confirmed a thought I’ve long entertained.

All these people saying they never got their Hogwarts letter: you got the letter. You went to Hogwarts. We were all there together. 

Of course it happened inside your head, but why on earth should that mean it wasn’t real?

Of course. Obviously. I’m a Ravenclaw. You’re a… well, I don’t remember, but if you read Harry Potter, we were there together.

Really. J.K. Rowling said it’s so.swirl

When I’m reading a good book, I fall into it. I practically leave my body behind.
Without a doubt, it (my body) will be breathing, laughing, and probably rubbing pages all over its face in a way that might embarrass me if I were actually there. Good thing that when pages are involved, I’m not.

I leave my body places all the time.

I love traveling, sifting through secret thoughts, and peering into mirrors while wearing other people’s skins. I don’t even mind when my heart gets broken, so long as it happens in other, bookish worlds.

So if you stumble across my body, just take a peek over its shoulder. Those pages on my face ought to tell you where I am.

I might be under the sea, flying in space, or halfway up a beanstalk somewhere green. Happy blogging!

Look for me in wardrobes, and in cupboards under stairs.

And feel free to join me there.

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