Hi there, I miss you already. I read 200 books this year and I learned nothing except the way a sentence should sound in your head when you’re reading it over and again, trying to make it last longer. My friend used to say I should talk less about how much I read—
Your writing is exactly what I wanted to read about reading and writing, except, I didn't know before I saw your words. I can even see and hear you, in front of me, like a real person. Of course, you are a real person. What I want to say is, when I was looking for some writings about other people talking about their reading, I didn't know what I was looking for. For most of the time, I ended up with those articles that 99% the same, talking about the plot, how useful how impactful the book was, or, those words that introducing the book thousands times already on the internet. Until I saw your writing, I think I was smiling, smiling to a friend, who is talking in front of me, simply just talking about random feelings about reading. Nothing particular, not about the use, not about how amazing the book is, not about how many people had recommended it already. It's just a talk, a talk that we can have in a raining afternoon. We hold our hot tea, or coffee, sitting next to the window next to the street, and blanket wrapped. It's not a conversation that requires feedback, or likes. They are just the words that fall into this moment, in front of the window, between the two. I don't have this kind of friends in my life. I do, actually, my husband. He is the only one that can read together with me, and we talk about books. But I still miss a friend, like a friend I had in school, when I was a little girl. We didn't have money, we didn't know much of anything, but we shared new books, new knowledge, new feelings we got from reading. But now, when I am older, when I am living in another country so far away from all my friends, I miss my friend from childhood. Your writing, gives me this feeling, of having a new friend, but seems so familiar at the same time. Thank you.
Very grateful to have come to your writing in 2020 - it's felt like having another companion to help navigate this present moment. It may not get easier, but it does matter.
You’re not afraid to discuss your struggles and shortcomings. Seeing someone else deal with similar problems is soothing in a way. It’s almost therapeutic. Unfortunately, we as readers get to enjoy this feeling while you as the writer do not. The posts are good. A well written account of dealing with ordinary, everyday life.
Hey!
How do you read so quickly? Do you have any tips?
Do you really absorb everything this way? How much time do you spend reading?
Merci
Your writing is exactly what I wanted to read about reading and writing, except, I didn't know before I saw your words. I can even see and hear you, in front of me, like a real person. Of course, you are a real person. What I want to say is, when I was looking for some writings about other people talking about their reading, I didn't know what I was looking for. For most of the time, I ended up with those articles that 99% the same, talking about the plot, how useful how impactful the book was, or, those words that introducing the book thousands times already on the internet. Until I saw your writing, I think I was smiling, smiling to a friend, who is talking in front of me, simply just talking about random feelings about reading. Nothing particular, not about the use, not about how amazing the book is, not about how many people had recommended it already. It's just a talk, a talk that we can have in a raining afternoon. We hold our hot tea, or coffee, sitting next to the window next to the street, and blanket wrapped. It's not a conversation that requires feedback, or likes. They are just the words that fall into this moment, in front of the window, between the two. I don't have this kind of friends in my life. I do, actually, my husband. He is the only one that can read together with me, and we talk about books. But I still miss a friend, like a friend I had in school, when I was a little girl. We didn't have money, we didn't know much of anything, but we shared new books, new knowledge, new feelings we got from reading. But now, when I am older, when I am living in another country so far away from all my friends, I miss my friend from childhood. Your writing, gives me this feeling, of having a new friend, but seems so familiar at the same time. Thank you.
Very grateful to have come to your writing in 2020 - it's felt like having another companion to help navigate this present moment. It may not get easier, but it does matter.
You’re not afraid to discuss your struggles and shortcomings. Seeing someone else deal with similar problems is soothing in a way. It’s almost therapeutic. Unfortunately, we as readers get to enjoy this feeling while you as the writer do not. The posts are good. A well written account of dealing with ordinary, everyday life.
I’m hungover, but you get the point
I’ve been in a very Wallace Stevens frame the past couple of days. “One must have a mind of winter”. Great post. Happy 2021.