i tend to carry more books than i actually need. or even worse, i just carry books when all i do is simply hold them in my hands. i think this helps me convince myself that maybe, just maybe, the words, the knowledge, the thick 1083 pages of the history of modern europe will enter through my pores and find home in my brain. and this habit of mine is not the only problem. right now i'm sitting at a borders, drinking some sweet coffee with an insufficient amount of milk. with the excuse of finding a quiet spot where all its inhabitants are very very study-minded. hmm the best solution to all this would be finding joy in the words i read, joy in absorbing the details.. finding joy ..
that's been very hard to do. in fact, this search for joy would be applicable to all other facets of my life.