… or so I think. That must be true, right? A book is finite, I know.
But these days, “the ends” are quite scarce. It could be that I am reading too many books at once. It’s also my allergy fogginess. It’s become really difficult to follow a string of words. I hate it when reading becomes difficult, but this too will pass.
Why do I feel so great when I finish a book? A book is a terribly fickle unit anyway, one that could be any number of pages. I mean isn’t it enough to just enjoy the process of reading?? Of course reading is more essential than finishing a book. Still, getting to the last page is an affirmation that I can, not only start, but also finish something. Publishing an entry is like that too… and perhaps that is one of the main reasons why I blog and post these inane comments.
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