As a writer, I often ask myself what is reading to me. What do I hope to gain when I open a book and flip through its pages? To me, reading is a lot of things, including a way to escape the real life and live in someone else’s head for a bit. But mostly,
It was during the spring festival at college that I saw him for the first time. He wore a red t-shirt and he was on up on the makeshift stage that they had put together for all the bands that were going to come in and perform during the fest. He wasn’t a musician or
I read a book last week that made me cry. Books do that to you, don’t they? They make you cry. They make you laugh. They make you angry or sad or joyful. They trigger you. The one that I read triggered me but I wasn’t expecting it to. There was nothing in the blurb.