It has been a long while since I curled up with an actual book and read. A really long while. That’s what I did this weekend—with three books at that. I’m not sure if I’d be able to post reviews for each, but the point of this is: I missed this.
I also realized, nothing really beats having an actual book—hardcover or paperback—in your hands. I also went through three books in two days, without somehow stopping. It’s like having a bowl of chips, and I cannot stop eating.
All the fuzzy feeling changed after reading John Green’s The Fault in our Stars, that made me a crying heap on the bed. The fuzzy feeling is there, yes, but it was sad too. A beautiful kind of sadness.
I am rambling, so I’ll leave this as is. I missed spending the days with just a book in my hands and reading the day away.