The book is my friend and adviser
In no place do I read books with such pleasure as in my grandmother’s house. My grandmother lives in her own house with an attic. It is there, in the attic, the living room in the attic under the roof slope, is the home library. My grandmother – a teacher and collected her library for many years, since the student years.
When I visit my grandmother and climb the attic, I pick up a book by Jules Verne, “Fifteen-year-old captain.” It seems to me that the attic is the cutting of the sailing ship “Pilgrim”. Together with the heroes of Jules Verne, I rush through boundless ocean expanses to meet adventures and dangers. The old garden, the trees of which reach the attic windows, resemble green waves, and the white pigeons that sometimes sit on the windowsill are gulls. I want to tell the heroes where the friend is, and where is the enemy; with whom it is necessary to wage an irreconcilable struggle, and who needs to be understood and forgiven.
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And the thickets of lilac at the grandmother’s shed remind me of a cave where Tom Sawyer and Peck Finn climbed in search of a treasure. Next to the lilac bushes a bench with a back is dug in. Here I come with the book of M. Twain “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” and as if I become a participant in the events described.
I love books. I like solving puzzles together with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, courageously overcome hundreds of kilometers of white silence of snow deserts, described by Jack London. I lead the plane with the wounded Ben – the hero of the story “The Last inch” of Aldridge; fall in love, like my peers from the “Wild Dog Dingo” Frayerman…
Of course, I do not just read in my grandmother’s house. The heroes of my favorite books are my faithful friends.
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