The pile of unread books in my room is growing higher and higher. It is time I confess one of my many shameful secrets: Since moving to Ghana in September, 2005, I have read no more than 9 books. 2 of them I read in my first two weeks in the country and the third during my first Christmas holiday. The rest were read…in Sweden during summer 2006 and 2007. Then of course there’s Khalil Gibran which I read a few months ago. I feel embarrassed thinking about it, but more so, I feel like I don’t know myself.
Books have always been my crack (excuse the comparison), but really it’s true. As a child I was so upset that you could only borrow 10 books per time at Frölunda biblioteket and was even more disappointed one summer in London when Tooting library would only allow us three (or was it five?) books at a time.
The problem now is that I continue to buy and borrow books from friends, start them and never finish. Currently on my nightstand are the following:
...and of course,
(almost done). I am finally getting back into the reading mode, unfortunately time is not on my side.
After thinking it over time and time again, I finally realised why I don’t read anymore – I drive. Reading has always been a perfect commuting tool. On the train from East Croydon to Victoria or the bus or tram from Kungssten into Brunnsparken, what better to do than to pick a good book and read!
Hm, I wonder if a journey in a trotro can give me that same soothing reading atmosphere…