Have you ever read a book that made you completely utterly forget yourself? Made you jump with surprise when you looked around, and realized you were still in your world, in your ordinary surroundings? I did, yesterday and this morning. I was completely entranced by these books, reading them voraciously, and every so often checking to see how many pages were left, impatiently awaiting further developments in the plot. And nothing mattered, I was pulled along whether I liked it or not, wanting to tear myself away from the darkly seductive writing, but being very unable to do so. And then I thought once again to myself, I will never be able to truly connect to anyone who doesn't have this deep appreciation for books, because they are ingrained into my soul. I have read ever since I was a little child, my mother and I bringing home stacks and stacks of books from the library which were devoured hungrily before the next trip to return and borrow more. I don't know why I am writing about this, except whenever I read a good book, I become inspired to start my own novel. Maybe I should.

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