Reading I couldn’t remember the exact time that I learned to read. Maybe from an advertisement jammed in the letter box; Maybe from the stories told by my mum; Maybe from the fairy books in my bookshelf. That doesn’t matter. What is the most important is that books enriched my life, broadening my horizons, breaking all tangible boundaries. In that mysterious realm, I travelled with Monkey King in the way to the west, followed Alice to take an adventure in wonderland, or stumble through the sewers of Paris, or transformed into Faust, mortgaging my soul to the devil. These stories all took roots in my heart, crawled along my memory and flourish to nourish my mind. Through reading, I experienced various life of different people, from household detective Holmes, stern Jean Valjean in the netherworld to Philip created by Maugham in Of Human Bondage. As a mortal, I am clearly aware that the lives all only have once, can’t repeat. But as a reader, I’m fortunate to experience so many different kinds of life, approaching so much knowledge which I may never get in touch with without reading.