Falling in and out of Books
I have a strange relationship with reading books. There are periods when I devour one book after another, whether it's a gripping thriller or a serious non-fiction title. In every quiet moment, I grab my book and can quickly lose myself in an adventure.
But then there are also stretches when I don’t read at all. Times when those quiet moments are no longer filled with paper pages, but with digital content on the small screen of the device that has become omnipresent in my life.
The longer those stretches last, the less inclined I am to dive back into a book. Just like routines become more ingrained through repetition, the opposite happens during these bookless periods.
At least, that’s how it seems. Because there’s always that moment again, when I walk into a local bookstore in a foreign city. A moment when that old love, tucked away somewhere deep in my consciousness, comes crawling back up from the ravine at full speed.
Ups and downs, that’s what it is. And even though rationally I’d prefer more of the ups (or even to always stay in one), I know that this is simply how I’m wired.
It is what it is. And on we go.