The book ended. Sadly, they always do. I tried so hard to savor it as slowly as I could, forcing myself to read only a few pages at a time, but it ended nevertheless.
I wonder if the stories were allowed to go on and on, we would eventually tire of them? And if so, would we still speak of them as fondly?
This leads me to ponder over other things in life. Everything in life seems to be most pleasurable at the peak of its development. Fruits are a great example. I carefully watch, wait for, and pounce on the moment of the fruit's maximum ripeness. If not, I am left with a bitter, rotten, or irritatingly unsatisfying taste in my mouth.
What about people? When developing a relationship, the heart-pounding excitement does not go on forever. We meet a person of interest, get intrigued by them, learn about them, want to spend more and more time with them, then there's the inevitable plateau, or even a downturn. What if a developing relationship ends at its peak just before reaching that plateau, due to circumstances out of either party's control such as relocation or death? Then that person is remembered forever as the best neighbor, friend, colleague, partner, lover, etc. We are left remembering only the extraordinary, because we are spared the ordinary that certainly would have followed. (Hmm... this also makes me wonder about the fine line/overlap between presence and absence -- but that's another think for another time. lol)
I believe humans are constantly driven to seek this type of peak pleasure in everything, whether it be physical, emotional, intellectual, or even spiritual. Of course, some of us have it worse than others, and we must be aware of our healthy boundaries while keeping a grip on reality. But I think the repeating lure of the next (and the next) bite into the ripeness of life is what gets us out of bed every morning.
Perhaps people's addiction to literature is no exception.
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