His first book was War and Peace.
No mean feat.
It took him four months.
But he said each sentence was gold.
Words reached in and kissed the very heart of his young soul.
The careful words had control.
Whole paragraphs described faraway rooms.
Where monstrous parlour plants grew.
Silks rustled.
And long life changing letters were written with ink in pots.
Ladies drank tea from somavars.
Men had moustaches and stern faces.
They cried when ladies withheld their graces.
His love of books grew and grew.
Learning to think in other men's shoes.

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