I enjoy reading immensely. I enjoy seeing people weave their opinions and feelings using words, building imaginary worlds and bringing to focus this real one, and maybe most importantly, letting us into their worlds. And that part, the imaginary worlds, is the one I enjoy the most. Reading is an escape, and if the book is especially good, also an escapade. In the pages of a book, this world without, with its problems and aches, ceases to matter, to exist. That’s also part of the allure of writing: creating the worlds one wants to see, the worlds one would like to inhabit, even, that beautiful struggle to build something from seemingly nothing, into a tangible that can elicit emotion and action, that can move you, that can move you away. Building worlds that can move you away. Ergo, reading and writing are two sides of a coin, the coin of the writer’s mind. We read to escape and we write to escape.


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