Read any book.
Understand every word.

The old man walked slowly through the cobblestone streets at dusk, his silhouette stretching long against the worn façades of the quarter. A melancholy had settled over him in recent years — slow and inevitable, like the turning of the tide. He was by nature a pensive creature, given to long evenings of solitude and quiet introspection in the dim candlelit rooms of his apartment. The labyrinthine alleys of the old city suited his temperament well. He paused before a weathered door.