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’s a confusion of style – a book is chosen for its satire, understood to offer clever words and social commentary (designed to shame the majority into action, reveal the problems of the world). It’s meant to be a simple
It is the strangest of prisons – the aisles stretch endless, divided into names and crackled spines, Melvil Dewey’s ingenuity modified. Books are placed into careful rows, offered genres and assumptions. Horror sprawls to your left; romance is found to
It is an age of ink, the black and white stories offered easily; the written word is seen in all forms, plastered across city stone and countryside corners. It cannot be refused. It cannot be denied. It is instead to
It has been a long quest, forced to aisle after aisle, the confusion of misplaced titles and books stacked clumsily. You are searching for a name, a fictional realm. You want to explore pages of adventures and unfamiliar worlds, the
You are a creature of many interests: you demand more from your books than predetermined structures and assumed rules. You wish to tangle genres, to let the prose and verse meet. The consequence is always spectacular (if not unexpected) and
It is a battle without a victor, with pages named as the reward: a book is argued over, named either brilliance or fiend. You are certain it is unworthy, appalled by its simpering text and sentimentality. It is little more
It’s an easy mistake to make: drama is thought to be the melancholy works and sentimental words, the chapters filled to suffering. All books must be drenched in metaphors, with all emphasis placed on tragedy. It cannot offer laughter. It
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