Yum
I was a classic chick-flick protagonist growing up – a shy kid who hits books to avoid people. I hated going outside. I hated the sun, the moon, the stars and everything nature. Luckily, my mother had a massive collection of novels, comics and journals, which she stored in a big red old cabinet under our altar. I remembered spending hours a day, lying on my belly, leafing through pages of old dusty pages amidst the cloud of molds from old pages and incense smoke from the altar above. Whenever a book was coming to an end, I would try to read slowly so I was not forced to go outside by boredom. Not surprisingly, growing up with books made me want to start writing. I am not saying that I am a good writer, but a solid 80% of me believes that the love for writing does not come to those who hate reading.
I was a classic chick-flick protagonist growing up – a shy kid who hits books to avoid people. I hated going outside. I hated the sun, the moon, the stars and everything nature. Luckily, my mother had a massive collection of novels, comics and journals, which she stored in a big red old cabinet under our altar. I remembered spending hours a day, lying on my belly, leafing through pages of old dusty pages amidst the cloud of molds from old pages and incense smoke from the altar above. Whenever a book was coming to an end, I would try to read slowly so I was not forced to go outside by boredom. Not surprisingly, growing up with books made me want to start writing. I am not saying that I am a good writer, but a solid 80% of me believes that the love for writing does not come to those who hate reading.
