My stack of books to read is higher than a mountain. It towers over my bed, casting shadows over my dreaming, sleeping form. Ann Brasheres. Zoe Sugg. Gillian Flynn. And more. Many more. Stories I want to weave into my mind. Characters I'm dying to meet. Plus I haven't read my book club book for this week. Some sort of horror or something. I've blocked it out. That one I'm avoiding.
But reading a new book takes time. It sucks me in and makes me ignore my to-do list, my obligations, my stressors. Such a sweet, sweet addiction. So not in the cards at the moment with the presses of time. And yet, I still really need a story to read in stolen moments. One where I won't stay up all night to finish. Which means I must read something I have read before.
Nothing beats Harry Potter books for this purpose. I open the page to anywhere, slip into a warm bath, a lover's embrace, a moment of pure happiness. I'm definitely reading the Zoe Sugg next. But until that lovely day comes I'll just pick up my wand and magic myself to Harry's world.
But reading a new book takes time. It sucks me in and makes me ignore my to-do list, my obligations, my stressors. Such a sweet, sweet addiction. So not in the cards at the moment with the presses of time. And yet, I still really need a story to read in stolen moments. One where I won't stay up all night to finish. Which means I must read something I have read before.
Nothing beats Harry Potter books for this purpose. I open the page to anywhere, slip into a warm bath, a lover's embrace, a moment of pure happiness. I'm definitely reading the Zoe Sugg next. But until that lovely day comes I'll just pick up my wand and magic myself to Harry's world.
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