Literary works, books, stories create their own worlds, parallel realities. Some are similar to our world, however, they enable us to choose who we want to be: the hero, the lover, the villain. Texts are the wings of our imagination, the sun during a rainy day. As soon as you close a book and put it back on the shelf, you close the gate to that reality, you conserve that world, keep it, store it only to dive into the momentary bliss of that world the next time you open its cover. When I read, I am the person I want to be, sometimes I am the person I used to be, and sometimes I am the person I am at this moment. So it's not only a substitute for this reality we’re living in. It's more. It's retrospective, anticipatory and defining.