What do a book and a man have in common?

Everything!
Maybe, it will be more suitable if the words “man you’ve fallen in love with” is used instead of just “man”… So where’s this similarity? What can a green colored cover of a book and a blonde, tall man have in common?

The ones who feel a subtle, frisky, “hungry” change in their heartbeats when they enter a Bookstore might answer that question. The same type of heartbeat might look familiar when that tall and blonde man enter your of field of view.

The automatic doors of the Bookstore are opened, and you meet the seductive smell of Books with the attendance of the cool air licking your face. That moment is similar to the time when a woman who is crazy for shopping enters to her favorite store, and comes upon a blend of colors, new season dresses welcoming her and yelling, “Buy me, buy me!”

And the sentence in the brain of the woman flashing; “I must have all!”

I must read all!

However, this excitement and enthusiasm also have a partner; desperation. You think of the numerous amounts of the books you’ve read. You think of the very special corner of your home in which the bookshelves are placed. You are a king in your home, with your books. But there, in that Bookstore, you’re tiny. You’re weak.

Woman wants to buy all of those clothes at once. But, neither the money in her wallet, nor the limit of her credit card affords it. (Even if she buys them, it’s a matter of suspect if she can wear all of those, or put a bridle on her dissatisfaction...) It’s impossible to read all of those books at once. As looking over all of the books in the shelves, your eyes rarely catch the ones you’ve read. With the unbearable thought of how inadequate and unenlightened you are, another idea appears in your mind; what’s wrong with not having read the majority of those books? You must be grateful that you’ve got much more to read, to learn. Wisdom is boundless; no matter how far you swim in the sea of knowledge, you can’t see the land!

That relaxes you a little bit. After glancing quickly at the Bestseller’s Section, there comes History, Literature, Psychology, New Age, Poetry, Fantasy Fiction... A long period of time passes. As a regular “you” sign, you’ve lost yourself in the pages. And after several minutes, when you’re heading towards the cash, with arms now full of various novels; while having a quick last eye on the books you might have overlooked. Then, you see it.

No, not the man of your dreams; what catches you is just another book. But it catches you tightly, touched your soul from somewhere. You start to move towards it, without knowing if its name or cover that turned your head in such a way.

So, how did that man touched your soul? What quality of him had turned your head and you had started to move toward him? Maybe  if you had turned your back to the book and leave, it would occupy your mind at most a few hours, and then it’s image would fade away from your mind, fade away like what he makes you feel when you think about him, oh sorry, it. You would forget, in the exact time you had halved reading that book you’d bought from Best Seller’s.

But no way, there’s no escape. You have let that man in your life, your mind. You don’t know if its cover, name, author or prize is the one that attracted you.
 

Maybe the Publishing Company, maybe the edition number, who knows? Or all of them; none of them!

Maybe you feel that the missing piece of your puzzle is hidden in that man, in that book, that you dream of inhaling the smell of its pages. 
 

Then, you get closer. You’re close. Now, you’re holding the book in your hands. It’s a little thick. Your heartbeats speed up; because you know that you will ultimately reach to its end. A fast and impatient reader like you inevitably shortens that time amount. And every end burns your heart, -even if you liked that thing or not- and leaves a bitter taste behind. Still, the later death comes, the better it is, isn’t it? So, that book which surrounded your soul is thick and long. Good news. Bitter end is far, far away.
 

You slowly move your right hand on the cover. Smooth. You fingers get a little dusty, but you don’t mind. After turning its back rashly, you start to read. Like the theme you had been chasing for years, were summarized on that back cover, you feel that you’ve been enchanted.
 

Glancing over the price label, you realize that you cannot afford to buy it altogether with other books you carry. Doesn’t matter! You leave everything you hold on an empty shell, and head toward the cashier’s desk with that single book you have in your hands. And finally, it’s yours. While tasting the feeling of ownership, you wonder if it feels the same or not.
 

It has exactly 495 pages. 495 pages to explore. Excitement. Enthusiasm. You even can’t breathe, asking “What has happened to me?”
 

“What has happened to me that I completely lose myself even with the thought of him?”
 

The drawings on the cover disappear, and his bottomless dark eyes, waiting to be explored appear. You yearn for reading him like a book. Until its end. You want to absorb each line of him, to find out every hidden sense manna. You desire digging him, until nothing is left behind.
 

You can’t hold on anymore, and you open the first page after taking a deep breath. You’re an amateur swimmer who’s preparing to dive into depths you’ve never seen before.
 

 A long time passes, but you’re still reading. You’ve already believed in the book’s charm. As it’s your soul’s mirror, as you look at your own reflection in each letter of it in the hunger of seeing yourself; you love him that much, you desire to see into his eyes.
 

You’re reading. You’re from the ones who isolate their selves while reading. But you will have to turn back to life when you finish it. Your heart aches again when I say the word “finish”. However you cannot escape even if you reject to see. There’s a time amount given, a restricted number of pages written, and you’ve already halved them. When Wednesday is over, the rest of the week quickly passes. You’re getting closer to the end. What are you going to do when that moment comes? With an inescapable sorrow, will you try to get away from that world in which it’s easy to enter, but hard to get out?
 

Will you cry? Not every end is happy, that’s why I ask.
A longer time passes. Hey, you have just a few pages to read.
I can touch to the ache of parting in your stomach, I breathe your curiosity. After several pages, you will have learned all of his secrets and dreams; you will have reached to the bottom of the pit. It will have passed through your veins, and it will not smell the same way you first bought it. Will it still be attractive? Will you tremble from top to bottom when he touches your hand?
 

How will you feel when you read to last sentence of the last line of the last page of the 495th page of him?
 

Maybe you’ll be left dumbstruck.

Or you’ll be terribly confused.

Anyhow, that new writers love open- ended stories.