>> 01 June 2011
I read. Books, Magazines, milk cartons, and blogs. Nothing is safe. I’ll read over your shoulder. On the bus. While I run. For fun.
I flip through the pages of glossy magazines and think… I want to visit that coffee shop or sit near that fountain. I want to white water raft down that glass green river or kayak on the still crystal blue water. I want to hike up that mountain or through the heavy green foliage of the rich Brazilian forest. I can build my very own cabin in the woods. My garden will be as rich and lush with perfect container gardens of rich and lush vegetables and perfectly purple plums glistening with the morning dew. I read about desert hikes and think…I can do that.
I read cookbooks and blogs. I can cook that. Perfectly prepared grilled beef and spring onion salad with crisp and leafy greens and seared protein so perfectly cooked you have to pick it up with your fingers as it slides off the fork. Beautiful deserts and classic drinks served in heavy glasses of generations before.
I read books. Glorious books and I roam through the world, threading through people’s lives and suddenly I’m transformed. I will go to New York and stand at the very edge of Time Square staring up at the billboards. To Hawaii and parasail across the ocean. Stroll down the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and be delighted by the jerk of the bumper cars or the sail of the Pirate ship over the ocean.
I read. To learn. To be inspired. To be adventurous.
I am a Reader.