Occasionally when you open a book it gets you. It grabs your shirt collar and pulls you in, sliding into its pages the words falling around you in waves. This is not reading, this is an easy swim through someone’s mind who shares your ideas, your expectations and your dreams. Someone who sees life with eyes like yours, who has the same ideals and who has struggled up and over the same mountains. The writer knows you and when they wrote the book they were writing it for you. It’s a personal letter not a book of thousands of words. It’s a personal letter of such meaning it can bring you to tears or tug at the rage you once felt. It makes you smile all the way up to your eyes and drags your frown down to your chin.