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I enjoyed reading so much that as
a child my sister would steal my books and hide
them so that I would play with her. One book went missing for
over a year. When I found it, squirreled into a pocket of an old winter
dress, even she had
forgotten she had put it there.
Not a lot has changed as far as my love of books is concerned, although
I do not
have the luxurious summers of my childhood to stretch out on a
bedspread and
spend the entire day reading.
Still, I can think of few delights outside of reading that draw out my
dreams and
inspire my yearnings. I could chastise myself for not being "in
the know" about the
latest books, poets and trends, but I think I won't. Negativity
dispels the dream...
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