It doesn’t matter what kind of of book, which genre it is in, books has a way of transfixing the mind, bringing it back to the present which is the greatest gift we have in these times of infinite distraction:

Books pierce into the depths of the mind, opening up another level of consciousness that we don’t understand – a mind free of distractions. Everything we do and everything we see and have done is bombarding our mind, constantly, but when we read, we have this moment of clarity, where we focus only on the words before us somehow opens up the floodgates that had been damned by everything else that concerns us. It is when we read that we are the most clear, when the mind wanders freely and we have our most profound thoughts. However, as soon as we put the book down, our train of thought is lost and we aren’t sure what we were thinking about to begin with. It is as if these thoughts are only meant for the clear, so abstract that they cannot be actualised in the distraction filled reality that we live in.

However, there are also those times when profound thoughts happen once we write. It doesn’t help mulling over everything as the mind is clear when we write. It forces us to focus on nothing but the words in our heads.

Perhaps the ancients were onto something, words are magic.