Books are like close friends. Friends who have been genuinely experiencing a cathartic phase regarding X and Y topic. Be it traveling abroad, managing managers, freshest sneaks of the last decade, Africa’s blood diamonds.

 Let me put it this way: imagine your ginger friend calling you late at night, asking you how you are and what not. Gossip here, advice there.  After 5-7 minutes of small talk, she comes to the meat of it. She starts  sharing with you, detail by detail, about this up and coming body language exercise they’ve been studying on other people because she herself saw a 15 minute segment regards said topic in a Dr Phil show while waiting for the dentist.

All the details, ins and outs are in her brain and communicated to you in a way only you can understand. After 10-15 minutes of receiving this information, you, asking a question every now and then to be polite and without even knowing, NOW, know a whole lot about body language. You know that if you talk with a person, one-on-one, and start purposely running your hand through your hair repeatedly, very repeatedly, then that person will do so in less than a minute. Guaranteed. Mimicking your physical actions.

Books are like that friend. That ginger friend. Books share knowledge an easy, understandable way. They enlighten you in a matter you might be extremely ignorant of, they challenge you to do things you are afraid of doing- just like a friend that dares you to say hi to that chick who has been eyeing you for a full 3 minutes waiting for you to ask her for her number.

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