When I was very little I used to merge myself entirely into my worlds of fantasy. I was many times by myself and my fantasies were all I had. I was a very early reader and I could devour books in mere days and even hours. My parents would try to stop me at more inconvenient times like supper, road trips, parties, sleeping hours. But I couldn't, I would just dissolve into that written world and would come out of it like a zombie, craving for the next one.
I miss that. Have I expired all possible books that can make me so oblivious and fully involved? Away from the real world? Does growing up had anything to do with it? Has life came in between? Is there a way back?