I settle at a table and open the book. Maybe studying magical artifacts will help forget what's tormenting my soul. At least for a while. After all, sometimes the best way to escape your own problems is to immerse yourself in someone else's wisdom, even if it's just about magical pouches.
Wandering between the rows, I plunge into silent dialogues with the past. Each book whispers of forgotten fates, of people whose mistakes and victories became lessons. Here, in the silence of the library halls, I feel my mind slowly awakening, as if hope flickers in a distant corner, calling to unravel the labyrinths of my own soul.
Standing before an ancient book, I can't help but see in its yellowed pages reflections of my own fate—the course of life, where every line is full of irony and at the same time imbued with an unquenchable spark of wisdom. This book is like an old advisor coming to help in an hour of doubt, offering not loud answers, but quiet understanding.
Thus begins a new stage of inner journey, where every word, every thought turns into steps on the path to truth. It is here, under the vaults of the ancient library, that I'm ready to unravel the tangle of fate, stocking up on bitter irony and quiet wisdom.
Two hours of life given to the book. Two hours that could have been spent contemplating my own ignorance or pondering the transience of existence. No—I read about pouches. About magical pouches. And you know what? Those two hours turned out to be far more productive than the entire previous night, full of noble impulses and lofty aspirations.
The battered folio smelled of old leather and secrets. In its lines intertwined practical crafts and metaphysical revelations, as if the very essence of magic whispered of infinite possibilities hidden behind apparent simplicity. Each page was imbued with an amazing mixture—like a river of sunlight flowing through gloomy swamps of ancient knowledge.
It turns out anyone with magic can create such a pouch. Anyone—what a democratic word! As if it's about the right to vote or the ability to breathe air. But the devil, as always, is in the details, and the details require not only magical abilities but also quite material resources.