Night, by Elie Wiesel. When you’re still a kid you’re living in a little bubble of innocence and even when we had our lessons on the Holocaust, I treated it as just some vague history lesson, same as everything else. Oh, some bad people did some bad things back a hundred years ago or whatever. Sure.

But then I read Night and it completely pulverized that bubble. I read it at the same age Elie was when he went through it and placing myself in his shoes shook me to my core. Holy shit, this was a real thing and it happened to real people. To kids, just like me. That was the first moment that not just the Holocaust, but ALL of history became ‘real’ to me. Not just stories you read in a textbook.

“To Bob Geiger, for reasons that need not be explained here—and to Bob Dylan, for Mister Tambourine Man.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas