In the academic world of my doctoral studies, where theoretical frameworks breed like tribbles and deadlines loom like dementors, the fantasy literature genre is my refuge. Imagine this: I’m hunched over my desk, eyes bleary from hours of dissecting complex theories that would make Einstein’s hair curl even more. But then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I reach for my trusty volume of fantasy literature.
As soon as I crack open that spine, the real-world melts away faster than ice in a dragon’s breath. Suddenly, I’m not a frazzled doctoral student; I’m a brave knight, a fearless princess, or perhaps a misunderstood sorcerer that loves dramatic entrances. The world of fantasy is a place where the impossible becomes delightfully possible.
Where else can you encounter a dual personality Gollum with a knack of speaking in the third person? Or witness a battle where an impending loss is thwarted by magical fairies? The audacity of these tales has the ability to make one forget the weight of our problems, even if only for a moment. Take dragons, for instance. These magnificent creatures are the essence of fantasy allure.
They come in all shapes, sizes, and temperaments, from the wise and ancient Smaug to the loyal and obedient Drogon. There’s something incredibly liberating about losing oneself in a world where dragons are as common as seagulls (albeit not as fond of fish and chips). My favourite dragon is Azdhaar from the Chitral folklore of northern Pakistan.
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