As heavy raindrops fall like a grey curtain, there is nothing that I want more than wrapping myself in a blanket and cuddling up with a good book. Perhaps get a cup of hot chocolate, rest my head on a heavy hardcover and linger. It is decently cold here, the summer weather turned to early winter, so it would be perfect to warm this healing heart.
During the last few weeks, I’ve devoured more books than I’ve cared to remember.Yet I have hardly written a word. Today, I started reading Markus Zusak’s “I am the messenger” and I am halfway through. The ugly, neon pink sticky note marks the 51% of the book. The pages smell like dust.
I don’t borrow many books from library, preferring to stack up my own bookshelves. Taking care of them takes forever. Though there is nothing more comforting than that.