(no subject)
I can't read enough these days. It's almost a compulsion. I want to keep reading. A few nights ago I read from three different books, and felt myself getting more frantic from one to the next until by the last one I was devouring pages. Why this drive? Partly emotions. I'm reading a book I relate to. I feel it. And the more I feel it, the more I wonder -- how much IS that me? It's not just reading, it's self-analysis. And partly it's fear. I'm reading and I love it. And I'm afraid of the day when I return to not being able to read. When I'm so busy that to take a walk is a treat. I know it's coming, and I don't want it to. So I just keep reading, on and on.