I finished two books today after two weeks: A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf and All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven. I’m not sure if it’s because of me or because of the books that it took me a while to finish them. Huh, it’s like saying a common breaking-up excuse: it’s not you, it’s me. After having a reading dry spell last year, it feels like there’s an inertia every time I read. I miss the feeling of being pulled in, like the books has claws and it won’t break me free. I want to be a prisoner again. So far, I am failing. Continue Reading
