There is a sense of beginning after finishing a novel.
Story becomes something, in the presence of blank spaces in-between the time actually reading and moving around in daily life. There is always a piece of each other, stories to connect with, memories and experience to store away and the colour of the heart.
Emotions are a powerful element to attach to a story. It will bring up the different elements stored away, all at once. When we start remembering from elements, it is a gradual process, there is still time to prepare your current self towards that shockwave of the heart. However, when emotions arise first, everything which surrounded that moment will come back all at once, often too loud and overwhelming.
I used to believe in all the things I don’t believe in now. There were millions of possibilities beyond reality, which really, truly seemed possible, and close, like you could almost feel it in your hand. Aging is not always a good thing. I’ve forgotten how I took those possibilities in my mind. It is even hard for me to imagine how to live tomorrow, let alone the whole future.
But when I read novels, the one that sticks, it becomes a new beginning. It becomes the starting line for everything, and I am eager to wake up the next morning so that I can live a bit more longer to find that small pieces of the story in my life.
Spacing between the story and the day is one of the most crucial part of the reading process. The gap between will be filled with the mixture of the two, those from the story and your life, and that’s what makes novel to change lives in any era.
Because attachments of emotions are always very strong.
And novels can push that up to the surface by making the blank spaces between the story and the physical life we are in now. We try to understand that spacing. And then it’s something new beginning.