I’ve set a personal best for the amount of books that I’ve read so far this year. I’m not the gloating type, I’m just saying. I’m saying it because for the first time in a long time, I can look back at something that I’ve enjoyed in my leisurely time and not feel guilty about the amount of time it took away from other things.
Reading is important, whether you’re a fan of it or otherwise. I liked it growing up, hated it throughout school, and fell in love with it again in my late twenties. But even if you fall out of the loop, only to regain traction at some point later down the road, you come to realize that it’s all vital.
Every word, every syllable, every fibered page, every story conveyed.
And it’s all winsome magic.