I did not read this book. I felt it. I felt every bit of it. It made me experience every word I read in a way that left me breathless.
At first, I was amazed by the cuteness and sweetness of the book. It seemed so simple, but not shallow. As I read more I became more and more involved with the characters and their unique stories and personalities. It was so overwhelming feeling so much – I had tears in my eyes for almost half of the book. I felt like crying when something sad happened, but also when something happy or nice happened. I couldn’t control myself.
This book opened so many doors to my soul. I have never before felt so exposed, so fragile, so delicate… and yet, a part of me loves it. I love how much this book touched and caressed my soul.
I feel as if it wasn’t just that I loved this book, it loved me back. It healed me, maybe all of me, maybe just a bit – It healed me, just like Jean Perdu said:
There are books that are suitable for a million people, others for only a hundred. There are even remedies—I mean books—that were written for one person only… A book is both medic and medicine at once. It makes a diagnosis as well as offering therapy.
Perhaps this book was written just for one reader – me. Perhaps it wasn’t.
In any case, I no longer doubt the healing properties of books!