I have completed, or read in full, at least ten books so far
this month. That’s got to be some kind of
record for me in my adult life.
Previously I was lucky to get through one book per month. I guess I’ve been enjoying the quiet time that
comes from reading. It’s a time to
reflect, to think, to be introspective and to escape. In college I became so busy that I lost the
will and the desire to read—sad, I know.
This year I’ve rediscovered my love for books. Even if I don’t flat-out love a book, it’s a
satisfying feeling to complete them and think critically about the inevitable
life lesson contained in each story.
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