Growing up, I spent as much time as I could with my nose buried within the pages of a book. I’m not sure when the reading bug bit, but once it did I couldn’t get my hands on enough books. I could go through a book in just a few days and once done, I was ready to dive right into another. I remember in grade school my classmates would head outside after lunch to play, and I would head to the library to meet with my book club. I loved it, it provided me the chance to be really good at something, and I felt safe and confident within the small group. We read books above our grade levels and most of us read our own books in addition to the group’s selection.
I struggled both socially and academically in junior high, but my love of reading continued. I might not have my math homework complete, heck I probably didn’t even have it started, but you could bet I was in the middle of at least one or two Stephen King or Dean Koontz books at all times. My academics never did really improve as I moved on to high school. Outside of reading, playing soccer and getting into trouble I really didn’t do much to enrich my learning. I graduated and wandered around in life, but I always did so with books in hand.
Over the past five to six years I will admit that I have completely stopped reading. The stories I couldn’t get enough of previously, now just seemed filled with horror, suspense, drama, and emotions that stress me out, and I find no enjoyment. I guess my soul sees and feels enough of those things on a daily basis that frankly, I just can’t take anymore.
I created today’s picture in hopes that holding all of our books, skimming the pages and remembering some of the stories may re-ignite that passion in me once again.
Taken with my Canon 60D, EF 18-135mm lens, edited with Photomatix HDR software
“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.” George RR Martin