I Love Literature
I love literature, but I have lacked the motivation to read. I buy book after book, dreamily caressing their covers as if bound by an innate and indomitable desire to open and become them, only to have them sit forlorn on the shelves.
What happened? I used to always have a book in hand, and now, when I do, I don't open them. They have become a placebo of comfort, never going beyond the aesthetic intent of merely holding them against my statuesque form. I wish to read as a dreamer reads again. I wish to fly.
What happened? I used to always have a book in hand, and now, when I do, I don't open them. They have become a placebo of comfort, never going beyond the aesthetic intent of merely holding them against my statuesque form. I wish to read as a dreamer reads again. I wish to fly.