Today I refer to a post I wrote years ago on my personal/photoblog; a blog I had to let go due to time constraints.
Few things have change since I wrote this post years ago. I didn’t call myself a writer back then but only a reader. I was sceptical about the digital platform. But now I realise it’s a gateway to worlds I couldn’t otherwise access, considering the exorbitant shipping fees when buying print books.
Reading is my “ME” time. The time is as precious as the writing time, and so I treat both with respect they command.
Reading makes immigrants of us all. It takes us away from home, but more important, it finds homes for us everywhere. ~ Jean Rhys
I enjoy armchair travel more especially, when I explore the world through the written word than through an Idiot Box. Reading allows me to employ all my senses, and let my imagination run wild.
The other day, I visited a bookstore with the intention to buy one of my colleagues a gift. I ended up buying myself the books in the picture, instead. No surprises there, it’s one of my bookaholic tendencies. And just like that, I managed to increase my reading list …*sigh*
In my defense though, it’s not very common to find poetry books in English here (in my city) though there is a decent selection of poetry in Finnish. I made a point of showing my appreciation by thanking the cashier for their efforts so that she can pass on the message to the buyer.
I could go on and on about reading, but at this point I would love to hear what does reading mean to you.