I have grown to realize that everything I am reading these days just gets sucked down immediately under the surface of my being, down into the bubbly depths, to be more fully digested and understood. My reading appetite is insatiable whereas I find any thoughts I have on what I’ve just read rather unformed, even though I’ve finished reading it.
I have decided to blame it on the changing of the seasons. Now that the harvest is over, it might be a long winter before I start writing anything much useful in the spring.
No comments:
Post a Comment