So you know that feeling?
The feeling you have when finished with a book (series), and you’re just not ready to leave this wonderful universe: you just want to cling on, forever following these terrific characters, love them, and remember them.
But you know; you have to go, you’re finished here, and this story has reached it’s perfect ending.
So you reach out, finding a new book, a new, exciting universe to lock yourself in, not knowing where you will end up, who you’ll grow to hate, or learn to love (before G. R. R. Martin (or Joss Whedon!) kills them ruthlessly, but nevertheless awesome of)
Or maybe it’s time to visit an old, loved universe again, to feel again and remember, both story, emotions and excitement. To reconnect with lost loves, to understand more, as you know, this is where they end up, and discover the hidden gems the author hid in hope of giving the rereaders a whole, new experience.
But how can it be, that a new book could possibly fill the void left by the finished book? It was everything one wanted; one lived, loved, and died with that book. It won’t ever be possible for a book to satisfy one again.
Not until one, a few days later, but as late, too late, as last time, one end up feeling just that same thing, just this time with a different book. It could be new, it could be old and remembered, or it could even be old and, until now, forgotten.
And you know that feeling?