an open book

It was rough weather for part of last night, in fact quite wild. I lay awake for a while listening to hear if the pot plants were blowing over in the garden. Eventually, I got up and reached for my books. I operate a kind of rota approach to my reading. I have a pile, admittedly selected with care, made up of a novel, some poetry, a self -help book, a gardening book and usually a biography. I read on the whole from the top book before replacing it at the bottom. I am transported by the power of books. I am willingly kidnapped, bundled up and taken to distant lands through them. They are a technique for time travel. More recently, as I have blogged more and more, I see the similar way that blogs grow a shared experience, opening my mind to the thoughts of others. Building a shared culture. I love the way that some times when I read, something present in them forces me to suspend breath. I meet words with surprise and often acknowledgement. I read until the darkness was replaced with morning light.