Last week, I attented something new for me. I went to a book release and on the top of that: I knew for real one of the authors! It was intresting to listen to them talking about the books and to read a part of them as well. Like story telling for adults. Wonderfull!
I came back home with a load of energy to read but… no. I haven’t read a line since then. I get some kind of anxious behaviour when I take a book, sit myself somewhere confortable and tell to myself: “now, you will read a book and be a good girl”. And it doesn’t matter which book it is, I have plenty of books I genuinly am interested in, but the fact to sit and read stresses me. Which is a big paradox. It is as if I wasn’t done to sit calmly and use my brain.
Well, luxury problem, somehow but I will read your book D, I promise!