Beyond the Book
I learned to love books before I could even read. Mom is an avid reader. Some of my most precious childhood memories are of her taking my sister and I to the public library on a regular basis. Located in the centre of town, parking was usually hard to find and we would walk through a noisy amalgamation of street vendors selling their wares, parking attendants clamoring for attention, and hordes of people busily going about their day to day activities, before reaching the imposing entrance of the library building. Once inside the glass doors, it was quiet and tranquil. An environment far removed from the hubbub outside. Although mom would caution us to keep our voices down, we needed little reminding - the atmosphere commanded quiet, prompting us to speak in hushed tones. Mom would go off to hunt for her preferred selection of reading, leaving my sister and I to each carefully choose our quota of four books. We would peruse the seemingly endless supply of colourful volumes stacked