From the time I learned how to read, I got myself into the habit of devouring books. It was an obsession, an addiction. I'd read through the night if I had to. I'd tear right through the pages, building world after fantastical world. Classics, dark fiction, new "literary fiction", poetry, philosophy - you name it. My wonderful, wonderful French and Spanish teacher had even introduced me to the magic of Baudelaire, Lorca and Góngora. What choice did I have? I fell in love over and over again with words. And not just in English (but more on that in a future post).
Now, finally, after leaving the law and finishing the best part of my MBA, I've revisited that love affair with reading. Funny thing is, I had forgotten what it felt like. I had forgotten that feeling of absolute hunger. The feeling that there are not enough hours in the day. Yes, it's still an obsession but it's a beautiful one and one I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.