Nepal contains part of the Himalayas, the highest mountain range in the world. Eight of the fourteen eight-thousanders are located in the country, either in whole or shared across a border with China or India.
It is an assumption conjured quickly, made with little more than a glance to a title: a book is seen, deemed a romance only by virtue of its cover design. It is thought unworthy, its pages seemingly meant to be
It was an unfortunate mistake: you chose a story based purely on its appearance (the cliche about judgments and covers was not enough to dissuade you). It seemed such a harmless thing and, for the first few words, it was.
Books were once the only true form of entertainment. They were cherished for the adventures they allowed children to imagine, the worlds they created. But those worlds can now be offered in easy glory through the television screen, found instantly
Laughter is the truest form of literature – this is what you believe. There are too many tragedies already to find in the world, with too many more trapped still in pages. You seek instead to discover humor, the unexpected
It’s a startling discovery, made accidentally as you clean through the endless stacks of clothes, toys and unidentifiable projects (that decision to purchase a chemistry set now seems to be a foolish one. Alchemy stains all carpets and leaves the
It’s a daily battle – you try to offer your child a book, only to see it rejected (whether stared at with disinterest or tossed against the wall, forgotten and ignored). Pages hold no fascination for youth. They’re instead considered
It’s a world of easy distractions: the flicker of the television, the simulated adventures of games, the summer hours that seem endless. Children are offered a myriad of possibilities; each seemingly better than the last and each certain to provide
It is a collection of impossible pages, weighted to imagery and importance. You hold them, careful, as if afraid they will somehow be too much for you to understand. They intimidate, those pages. They overwhelm with their refusal to end.
The assumption of literature is that it began within the Victorian age, with all characterizations and tropes developed within the opium grandeur. All books before were merely failed attempts; and all books to follow were to stand forever in the