x Open your Eyes

 Open your eyes.

That's what I always hear when I'm about to sleep since I was child, after my parents have given me a fairy tale book. But this was no ordinary book to me, always I saw something familiar, that brought me comfort when I felt sad and when did not know me what to do. The characters for me were alive and real, and even now at nineteen, I still feel the same.

 I got out of bed when I saw that the clock struck midnight. Like a magnet, the book again attracts me to the desk. I know I've read the same story thousands of times, but what matter? There was something about it that I identified every time I read it.

 Even without lighting the lamp, I knew what was written on every line, every letter, every drawing. Each speaks of the characters was like the voice of an old friend to me. That story was like a past unknown to me. It was as if they were telling my story and I never knew that.

  Unlike other times, I had no desire to read, but to observe the designs of the characters. There were not children's drawings, they were paintings seemed to people that were real. Am I imaginig too much? Perhaps. I guess I'm so used to this book that it is simply a family album.