You are still my favorite book, the one I can read a thousand times and the plot will still be unpredictable. You are unputdownable.
You are my all-time confounded story. So confusing, so surprising, with every single reading. I turn the pages and my mind won’t stand still. Always reading between the lines. Compulsively. You are unputdownable.
All I need is a quiet place to sit and time to read. Continue the confusion and with no conclusion. You are unputdownable.
And when at last I come to the end, I turn to page one and again: absorb every word, get scared, back off and close the door. If only… you would let me, if only you would be so kind, if only I could …fucking read your mind! But no. You are unputdownable.