booked

simply put, i have not read much lately.

now, i know that there are those who would argue that point, based on the fact that i seem to get caught reading so often. but the truth is, for whatever reason, i have slowed down both my reading and my writing.

somehow i found that i was no longer reading for enjoyment, for the sheer pleasure of it, as i have always done, but i had come to look at reading as a chore, as just one more thing to knock off the grand to-do list.

this changes today.

whatever reasons may have caused this, i am now declaring them null and void. i read because i find bits and pieces of myself that i have either forgotten about or lost within the pages of books. i write for the same reason... not because i have to write, but because when i do not write, i become like a stranger to myself, and need the very act of writing to remind me of the things that i too often tend to forget.

to go with my new resolve, i was reminded of a quote from what was possibly the best book i've ever read, and found a beautiful quote in one of the books i am reading now.

when she came to write her story, she would wonder exactly when the books and the words started to mean not just something, but everything. {markus zusak, the book thief}

perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to their perfect readers. {mary ann shaffer & annie barrows, the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society}

what are you reading these days?