I read too much. I suspect it is getting in the way of having a life, or maybe, maybe, maybe, books are life…
Are they? Please tell me they are because I’ll give up eating before I’ll give up reading, and this is a woman with the kind of child bearing hips only a deep attachment to chocolate can create…
The thing is this, I read so fast I sometimes wonder whether I’m taking it all in. It has even been known for me to spend a glorious afternoon choosing a new little handheld world, take it home, get through the first chapter and find to my chagrin that not only have I read it before, but somewhere deep inside the words are written, just waiting to be called upon from the furthest little nooks of my mind.
On my bedside today sits "I, Too, Have Lived In Arcadia", " The HouseKeeping Book of Susanna Whatman", "A Room With A View", "Toxic Children", "The Ivy Chronicles" and "The Rules" (Only joking!!), all waiting to be consumed after the lighthearted ordeal that is "Are Men Necessary?" (apparently so) is finally over. I will read them, I will momentarily become them, and then I will deliver them to the Oxfam
But wouldn’t it be nice to have a personal history of all the books that have created me? Wouldn’t it be kind of scrumptious to have a place to scrawl inspiring quotes and words that catch you in your throat? A
And so I am on a mission to find a beautiful