It takes my dark soul into a word of light, surrounding my darkness in a glorious gold blanket. I love the sun.
I love the energy it awakens in my body, the shine it forms in my eyes, creating little white stars when it hits the deep dark brown of my irises.
The rain is so astethicly pleasing too, I love the wet mood it sets, the smell it forms as it hits my rosy cheeks and the frame of mind it puts me in, calm. The patters it makes as it slaps my surroundings sound so soothing amongst the faded chatters of Rosebud town.
It’s raining today, from a gloomy sky. And the wind is blowing it all around me, large heavy drops, gently slapping my cold exposed skin and creating wet speckles all on my grey shorts. I always dress for the summer even in winter. My go-to is shorts and spaghetti tops with my most favorite thing in the world, my jacket, the one I never leave without.
The bells on my keys rattle reassuring me I still have them in my bag as I tend to have a bounce when I take each step closer to my favorite shop in the world The Paper butterfly.
The wooden lilac walls reveal themselves to me as I turn a corner I’ve turned hundreds possibly thousands of times in my life. I thump up the little steps, stepping into a world a bookworm can only dream of, that I only thought you could ever dream of.
The wooden painted walls are stacked high with pages from all genres, fantasy, historical fiction, romance, science fiction, biographies, you name it, and the Paper Butterfly sells it. Whether you want vintage, new, hard or soft covers, you will find them here.
I take in the dreamy sight before me for the millionth time, books encage me in every corner, nook, and cranny.
Masterpieces filled with words that contain so many beautifully written stories. Stories that can capture and rip you from your world into another. And that’s exactly why my passion for reading runs deep because I can lose myself in pages. With novels I can bury myself in words, living a billion lives by reading.
Row upon row upon row of beautifully crafted chocolate oak bookshelves line an upstairs and downstairs of the shop. With a matching staircase that has been carved from dark brown oak, all butterflies and swirls old and worn from age hand-carved into the precious wood.
This is my most favorite place in rosebud, my most favorite place in the world actually. Every Saturday I come here delving into new stories. Sometimes I come in the week too if I’m passing by, grabbing any new stock that twinkles from the shelves. You don’t have to buy books here, you can rent them too, or even plop yourself in a chair and read here as if it’s a library like I do every weekend.
I head to my favorite area, the ya books. I love to relate to characters more of my own age, preferably contemporaries, romances, or the odd horror book now and then.
Today I fancy a romance read, something that deals with mental health too.
I shimmy my bag from my back and grab my purple leather journal, flipping through pages and pages of my written thoughts to seek out the TBR list - (To Be Read list) I have written in black smudgy ink.
The journal i had left to me in my nanas will, she had written a note for me inside saying how much she loved me and how to never let your dreams go.
She had the journal made for me, with my name painted onto the cover in 24-carat gold to match the also gold painted sides of the ruled pages. My nana died when i was only 6 years old and i had the journal for my 16th birthday just gone in July the 7th. My older brother gave it to me saying it was made clear to wait till my 16th until i receive the journal.
