The Assignment

I was request to do an assignment: read and review a book. It wasn't a long book, but my mind wasn't into it. I keep rereading the same line over and over while my thoughts escape to other place and time far away from that story printed in those pages. I decided to go outside and read under the big tree where an old park bench invited me to relax beside the murmuring of the lake. Sitting there I could feel the calming breeze and the beautiful twinkling of the water under the sun of the spring. I decided to start my task with a big breath. I looked for that elusive line hoping to find its meaning when I noticed that the words moved, subtle, but they moved with the breeze. 

With scientific curiosity, I changed the position of the book, in a way that the pages could face the breeze directly and this time not a breeze, but a respectable wind blew away half of them. I looked to the book that I have to return next day with new white pages and in my desperation I ran to catch those elusive words that were flying away with the win. I managed to catch some of them and start to put them in the pockets of my jacket. But I forgot the book over the bench and after another gust of wind more words escaped riding on it. I went back to close the book now with half empty pages. I looked around and I could see all the words scattered around the tree, grass and even settling on the sparkling water of the lake.  I gather all the words I could find and put them in my pockets. Then I took my jacket, cover the book with it to avoid more blowing words and jumped to the lake, hoping to fish the rest. I saw one sinking steps away  from me so I had no option but dive. On the button more words were lying with delicate dancing as the current of the tide. A fish confused my words with its food and I had to fight with it for them. Finally I get out of the lake and went inside the house with a bunch of disorganised wet words and an empty book. The next day, when all were finally dry, I returned the all the words I could recover into the book and wait some minutes. Then I opened the book and for my relief everything looks fine, but I could never find that first elusive line I couldn't finish reading the day before. Instead it seems that a new story was printed. And what I read that day was so amazing and magic and entertainment that I couldn't stop reading till the last page, the last line and the last word. So, I decided to do that again with every book that got into my hands. And it was then that people started to call me writer.