fuckyeahreading!

I think we all have that one book that’s especially ours and we don’t want to share with anyone, because we’re embarassed to admit we like it or for fear that they’ll make fun of it, despise it, or won’t share our enthusiasm. That one book, it might not be your absolute favorite and it might not be especially well written, that you only reserve for youself because everyone else just won’t understand why you love it so much. That you’ve read over and over and over and keep coming back to, for reasons you don’t really understand either. Because there’s just something about that particular book, some magical quality it posesses, that makes you want to reserve it only for yourself. Because when you read that book, you’re transported somewhere that’s familiar and reminds you of home.