Books.
If there is one thing that defines me as a person, it is my love for reading. And along with this love for reading comes my love for books.
Ever since I was a child, reading trumped any other activity I could possibly engage in – by a mile. I recall passing my summer holidays reading two books a day, and then reading the whole lot of textbooks when I received them in advance for the following academic year.
Reading while eating, reading while lying down, while sitting, while watching television…small wonder that I have such wonderful frames around my eyes:)
I also had a mini book collection of my own – secured in a cupboard of my own – painstakingly collected over the years – one trip to Mecca Stores (a second-hand book store in Commercial Street) at a time. Our family also ran a small neighbourhood library – an oasis of knowledge in the otherwise proliferating, attention-seeking sands of cable tv. I spent many an evening at the library, eagerly looking out for a dwindling tribe of avid readers, while continuing the tradition myself in my own small way. And I must say, I often returned disappointed – people were losing the ability to immerse themselves in a rich world of letters, and were instead getting more prone to grabbing a space in front of the idiot box.
Of course, the story didn’t get any better, with the advances in personal computing. And here we are today, spending our lives in front of countless screens, all while trying to extract knowledge from an artificial source of questionable intelligence.
So why write about this today? Well, today’s the day I started to build my book collection again. Back to my reading roots, if I may. Back to where it all began, in the cauldron of imagination that used to be my head in my formative years…My target is 5,000 books, and I know I will get there sooner than later. Well begun, in this case, is half done!
What will I do with such a collection? Why, read of course:) Will you care to read with me?