the art of non existence

I like the change of hues on the pages of my book due to the change of luminosity when i read while walking in my appartment, the reflection is complex, progressively drifting, gleaming, then lingering, bright and cheerful close to the open window, then darker in the corner next to the kitchen, the stains are revealed on old paper and my shadow sometimes darkens the pages furtively, it's like clouds passing in front of the sun, or experiencing all the emotions of a spectrum, it's changing me aswell, it makes me feel somewhat more alive, the light on a book is adventures in my life, independently of any words.
It's an art not to exist that i know how to enjoy.