Objection

This is why I object. 

Nature says hello when you breeze through its sheets, and you can feel the whistle of the wind as they touch upon them. It smells sweet and harmonious while turning the pages and brings back memories of sand, ocean, mountains, and forests. Your fingers easily slide on the words, the indents bold and assertive in their speech and form. The letters transform from words to sentences, to paragraphs to pages. You read by candlelight, when the night has awaken. You skim by sunshine when the dawn has decided to play. You flip through the leaflets of imagination from cover to cover until the journey has ended, both physically and mentally. 

This is why I object.