On the Joys of Reading

Reading; I’ve been an avid reader for most of my life, and I hope to keep it that way for the foreseeable future should life allow me that luxury.

I don’t think it was like this always. I remember (when I was very young) that I liked to play in the sun than stare at a book for hours on end, I just didn’t get why one should flip through the pages of a book when one could perfectly go outside and play among trees with siblings (I did play a lot among trees when I was very young).

What made me start reading was my thirst (yes, thirst!) for stories since as far as I remember. I always wanted to hear stories. When I’ve exhausted all grown-ups I could find in the house, and still wanted to hear more, I saw my sister being perfectly content: book in her hands, eyes gazing intently on the little black letters that ran through the white pages. And grown-ups said to me, “If you want more stories, you can read a book, for I have been telling you stories for hours now and I’ve got some work to do around the house” (it was always some version of it).

Ever since I’ve been told stories starting at childhood, I’ve been facinated by those.