I have lived for many thousands of years, perhaps a million..
Not physically, of course. But, when I read a story, whether a short-short or a lengthy multi-volumed novel, it is as if I lived an entire lifetime. When the story gets to THE END, and I put down the magazine or book, I return to the Here-and-Now with a shock. I am always surprised to find myself back in the quotidian. It is, at times, quite unnerving to make that transition from Barsoom or Our Fair Verona, or Owen Wister’s Wyoming (“The Virginian”), to the “present”. It is then, often the “present”, which I find unreal.