As a side note, I miss reading. My time for recreational reading has been significantly limited over the last year. It is almost like being seperated from an old, and dear, friend. I moved to the basement several weeks ago and was finally able to unpack my books from storage. They have been boxed away for almost two years. A friend came to help me unpack and she kept laughing because I was smiling at the books and touching them affectionately. She said that every few minutes, she would hear a contented sigh. I accept this willingly. My books are one of my joys and I missed them.
"I wonder how the book got to Guernsey? Perhaps there is some secret sort of homing instinct in books that brings them to there perfect readers." I have a story about that too, but it is a story for a different day. Happy reading, friends!
I'm so happy you're enjoying. Teaching sucks the reading life right out of you, doesn't it? Guernsey was my first read of the summer last summer--I was reminded all over again why I love reading so. Do people truly understand this fondness for books we have? I can't help it--each book I read (and love) eases itself into the soul of me. I'm part of who I am because of them.
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