I used to think that time slowed down when I was deep into a book. I'd lose track of what was going on around me, it was like I didn't exist anymore. I'd randomly have a vague awareness of this, and it would feel like I was floating. It might be the closest time I've come to some sort of meditative state.
Anymore I just read at bed times. Reading is one of the things I miss the most about my life belonging just to me. Toddlers don't have much patience for staying still and staying quiet, unless they are sleeping.
I usually dread a book ending- the story is so engaging, the premise so riveting. I actually feel a loss when it ends. Then I look at it. Just a stack of paper, ink all over it- and I think how incredible it is that an entire world happened there. So much bigger than it's compact, rectangleness.
I tend to stay away from book stores. I love them too much. I walk in and feel alive. The person responsible for marketing to me has done their job well- I instantly want 10 books to come home with me. I am untrustworthy, I make promises I can't keep and I spend money I swore I wouldn't. It's a sickness, really. When I'm holding a beauty in my hand I am giddy with the prospect of reading it. Everything about it is right: the weight, the smooth cover, the sound it makes when you set it down- a bit hollow and yet solid. I love it. They even have a funny smell, like processed earth.
The book I am into right now is wonderful and I only can't wait for it to end because I have 3 other solid books waiting in my nightstand. Eek! I can't wait!
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P.S. I you are local, there is an SPCA book store in the Raley's shopping center where we've bought a stack of books for less than $3.00- I'd go there first!