My bookshelf

I love reading books. Sometimes I read simply for enjoyment: a gripping plot, beautiful language, or rich psychological depth. But books also feel like a way of connecting with the author and glimpsing the world in which they lived. Through this, I’ve gradually learned to look at ideas from different angles and to appreciate perspectives beyond my own.

I used to spend hours buried in books – any book I could find on our old wooden shelf. One day, I realized I had finished them all. My parents couldn’t afford to buy more, so they took me to the local library instead. That’s where my world opened up. I still remember the feeling of holding my first library card – renewed year after year, as if it grew with me. In that quiet space, surrounded by stories, I learned that knowledge isn’t about how much you own, but how deeply you seek to understand.