frenzied reader

I’ve not been letting myself read fiction novels.  I’m a voracious reader; when commuting I’d read through a new book each week.  I love it when a story completely envelopes me and I’m unwilling to stop – wishing for delays on the tube so I can continue.  
 
Since I no longer commute, and lack that forced stop, I have ceased reading cold turkey.  I was fine with this until a recent three hour train journey where I allowed myself a new paperback to while away the hours onboard.  Following a long break, reading felt like a hit of a drug I hadn’t realised I’d been craving.  My eyes didn’t wander to take in the blurred fields rushing past or watch the clouds as we rolled along.  I was engrossed and enraptured and the cramp as I reached my destination indicated I had barely moved an inch during my entire journey.  Oh the frustration of having to stop!  All I could think about was when my next instalment would be and when I might find out what happens next……This is BAD.  I can’t remind myself how much I love this pastime.  I will be hanging out at the local library and scouring the flat for un-spent gift cards desperate for my next hit.  I will stop searching out inspiration and attempting to get my life in order and just stay in bed (or lie in the sunshine if it continues) reading and reading.  
 
So the (finished) book has been squeezed onto the bookshelf, to be the last one read for the foreseeable future; reading has become something I covet.
 
 
 
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