There is something magical about stories. They give you a glimpse of being not you. For a while you walk into the shoes of the characters. You willingly suspend your disbelief and become that character. You laugh and cry as if it were you.
And then when you get out of the story. For some time, you are not you. It is the character from the story walking into your life. And hence giving you a third person narrative of your own life. Making you realize how trivial your problems are and how beautiful your life is.
(A post inspired from Sahitya Adda event this evening.)
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