Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.
This is rather subtle, but still it speaks to many of us.
When I saw this post in a reading group I belong to, I’d instantly hit share. I mean, what’s your Facebook for, really? To share, right? So I needed to share that. This. Reading is good. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s rewarding, mentally, spiritually. Though never quite physically.
I love to travel. I love moving around. I don’t like being stuck in one place over a long period of time which I can never quite explain how long, to be exact. I don’t get tired of things easily. I just want to be exposed to other things other than what I’ve already been exposed to. Either that, or I needed something more from the same thing I was exposed to, as it doesn’t always have to be something different.
I like going around solo, because I don’t like waiting around for things or people to happen. I find most thrills through observing, then making my move. By move, I mean talk. Chat. Communicate. Ask, and listen. Not speak.
But when you have to stay where you are, whether you’re bound to commitments or basic human responsibilities, what escape do you got? What excuses do you got, to make a quick escape?
To live freely, to be appreciated, to be respected, to be understood?
What do you got?
Books. Stories. You got books, you got stories. All to yourself.
(add music to that, and whatever antidepressants you’re on).
If your body can’t do the job for you, your mind can.
And don’t you ever, fucking forget that.