Remembering Terry Pratchett

It was my first year at University. I had a one hour commute every day to reach the faculty (and one hour back home,) and instead of making proper use of the time and study on these lost hours I used to read.

Days were long, going to work early in the morning, returning home from classes late at night. I needed some light reading to avoid falling asleep and miss my stop.

I went to a bookshop and took a paperback with a funny drawing on the cover. Knowing myself, it surely wasn't a quick decision, and I also read the summaries of lots of books that day... but that's not the point today. As you may have assumed, the book was The color of Magic, by Terry Pratchett.
By this time I hadn't already discovered Douglas Adams, Jasper Fforde or Neil Gaiman, and Pratchett's book was my first contact with amazing weird worlds, written for adults with a special sense of humour, an unstoppable flow of loony characters and situations, and well written... I felt understood: finally some food for my tired but demanding brain!

As soon as I finished the book I went to the same bookshop again, thirsty of more stories, and bought all the other books in the series they had there. I remember the bookshop guy taking the books off my hands to charge them and recognise a fellow in me. Having been a lonely weird child, for the first time this day I felt a quick glimpse that I was part of something.

Some years ago I read that Terry Pratchett was ill with Alzheimer and I cried. I always thought that this is one of the worse illnesses one may suffer: first you were ripped off all your memories, your achievements, your own self, your emotions... and when you are completely empty and alone and not you, then you die. It's cruel.

Three days ago I knew about Terry Pratchett's death by Rubén, who has never read a book of him (though I usually suggested to do it). I was sad and went to my bookshelf to take all his books to re-read them. Not only Discworld ones. I also have The unadulterated cat, one of the first books I read when we adopted a cat and we don't know anything about this not "purr-fect" animal.

And while I was surrounded by (once) funny (now full of sad tears) books, Ruben did this drawing.

Drawn with Pentel Superb

Rest in Peace, Terry Pratchett, and thanks.

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