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Originally Posted by Folwren
Pop really tempted me by giving me a new copy for Christmas last year. . .but I've refrained from reading them thus far.
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I am impressed by your self-control, my dear. No way would I be able to do that!
I don't think there is a clear reason why I keep coming back. They evoke a sort of painful, melancholy longing in me...it's kind of like when you cut (or bite, as the case may be) your nails too short--it hurts to put pressure on them, but it also feels good. Which actually does not explain anything at all...
Why do we love anything to this extent? Is it simply for escape? To a certain extent, yes, but I shy away from using this explanation. It is an escape, but it's more than that. It's an affirmation that there's something else out there, I think. But I don't know. No one does.
