Tenacious, Dauntless Chloe Christiaansen

Here, on top of this duvet there exists a sun-soaked, silent universe. I pick up the object in my lap, lazily stretch out my legs and fill my world with the sound of its cracking spine. A gentle shhhhh, smoothing the page beneath my hand. The adventure tucked inside this space unfolds only for me. Yes, everyone else is rendered unaware to the excitement and color and story which explodes into my mind and bursts into the room with the scanning of these first few words. For a few hours wizards can cast spells, two boys are discovering how to love each other, Greek Gods fight to defend their realms, and no one but me will notice. I am submerged; happily enamored with the story until I slam the cover shut.

From literary wall décor to my frequent Boswell Bookstore trips, reading is a clear and quintessential part of who I am. The moment I pull a volume off my shelf and peel back the cover, the adventures and experiences and emotions and memories become part of me. Each book adds to me. It slips beneath the surface of my mind and settles, building on my beliefs, my personality, my desires and my ambitions. The book ends, and life moves on. No one else has noticed, but I have changed. If only in the tiniest of ways, each story has...