Reading..Reading...Reading...

I'm reading Salman Rushdie's THE GROUND BENEATH HER FEET. It's a massive volume that keeps me reaching for the dictionary and pinching myself to stay afloat with its elaborate sentence structure.

I haven't ever finished a Rushdie book and I'd like to be able to say that I've read a few of his works...one of these days.

I used to always be cuddled up with a book, but in the last few years I find my attention span too lax. I rather be lazy and sit in front of the cable television...but I KNOW that reading is better for my brain...and oddly enough, better for my soul.

Does that make sense? The act of losing yourself in imagination is good for the soul. It's much better than having someone else's vision thrust upon your brain cells...

Or so I think.
I know I'm missing alot when I'm reading GROUND BENEATH HER FEET. But I also know that I'm able to see the essence of the book, as a tragic love story rooted in mythology. It's a story we can all relate to, no matter what the trappings of history or setting.

Mmmmm. I love that I'm reading again.

In the Beginning

In the beginning there was a blank page waiting for words to fall on it. I intend to make a humble effort to fill the blank spaces with any and all kinds of writing that suit my mood or creative bent.