When I turn away from my book I can see my boyfriend's knees and the back of his laptop while he writes some law crap. Reminder to self I had the happiest day yesterday doing nothing except waking up, cooking three square meals for my perennially malnourished partner, and reading in the sun(indoors, with my head and book poking out of the duvet). It was 5 degrees Celsius outside. Springtime weather in London this year is pretty much a joke or a total nightmare, depending on your attitudes in life.
In the last 48 hours I have read half of Cloud Atlas which is admittedly a good novel but I just cannot say I love it. When did I stop falling in love with every single book I read? When I turned 18 I read the Great Gatsby and spent the next nine months reading nothing but Fitzgerald. There were other books in between but I didn't bring them with me on flights or in bathtubs. I suppose I had a change of heart when I started reading philosophy and gave myself away to Aristotle and Marx.
Piles(literally, piles!!!) of novels sit on my bedside floor slowly becoming furniture. Book recommendations from my friends have pooled in an unending iPhone memo I am ashamed to revisit. But if I do not love books how can I be my mothers daughter?? This year I will swallow novels until I learn to feel again.
dude i know i am supposed to dwell on the emotional bits of this post but you're such a freaking good writer
ReplyDeletexoxo rach