In my house when I was smaller books were always around. My
father's study/library is one of my earliest memories. When I was younger it
was one of the most interesting rooms in my house. it was part of the labyrinth
that was known as the spare room in the house. The study was only a small
section kept apart from the disorganised, mess that surrounded it. In the room
you could find a variety of objects at any one time; children's play chairs for
when we decided to roam into the midst of mystery that could be created in the
room, paintings of flowers and landscapes, furniture that was being fixed, car
parts, lonely shoes discarded because of wear and tear and lots of toys.
The room was a magical place, it extended our imagination to
anywhere in the world You could pick out objects and pretend you were a
shopkeeper selling mystical items from your odd eccentric shop or a painter (as
long as you didn't actually touch the paintings). It is the place where I have
some of my most magical memories because anything could have happened.
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