The NeverEnding Story Ends after about an Hour and A Half.

There have been many times in my life when I wished I could hop on the nearest luck dragon and chase my fears into a dumpster while I pump my fist in the air and yell "Yeah! Yeah!"

It's hard to review a movie with such nostalgic weight to it, so, to be perfectly honest, I am not going to review this movie, but rather talk about it.

This movie had a profound effect on me as a child. I know what you are thinking, you are thinking this movie rekindled a deep love of books, but no, it didn't, I have never been much of a reader, dyslexia saw to that. (By the way, do you know how much of a pain it is to spell the word "dyslexia" when you have dyslexia?) No, it didn't send my flying into the arms of a leather bound book or even a paperback. It did, however, make me love bookstores.

Not just any bookstore will do though, no. Barnes & Nobles are too sterile, too clean. A bookstore, a proper bookstore, should be a bit messy, it should have books piled up, books overflowing from the shelves and display cases. It should smell like leather, paper and just a hint of mold, and be run by a very old and wise man.

The NeverEnding Story was the first time I ever saw a bookstore like that. It promised safety and adventure.

Sometimes I will walk into a bookstore, with no intention of buying a book, just to look around and smell the place... and maybe look for a fantastic book that has the power to draw its reader in.