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My love for books grew since a very young age. I remember how my parents took me to the bookstore every single weekend, and since they were not much of a traveler back then; my first traveling adventures happened inside of my head.

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I remember waking up in a rainy Sunday morning and made my self a glass of hot chocolate and grab any book that Enid Blyton wrote. She took me traveling to the country side of England and introduced me to winter.

I could never forget having my hand held by Roald Dahl as we invisibly sat in Willy Wonka’s elevator that went out of space and being in the air balloon with Jules Verne.

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As I do actual travelings today, my mind continues to walk on the path yet to be known. But as long as I have Blyton, Dahl, and Verne along (but let’s not forget OrwellVonnegut and Neruda), I think the unknown might reveal the best in life.