2020 has made me realize that I have a book hoarding problem. My shelves are groaning under the weight of accumulated books and pages and words of literature. And no matter how much I dedicate myself to reading, the pile never seems to get any smaller.
One of my childhood passions was reading. I would take part in my local library’s reading contest every year and read as much as possible. And I could find no joy greater than opening a book and losing myself in a world of the author’s creation until I turned the final page.
I recently read an article detailing the decrease in the number of books read by the average American adult but rather than finding this something to be sad about in some ways there were a few positives to it.