I love books. I love to look at them. I love to hold them and I love to read them. I love words and how they twist around each other to being emotion and thought and knowledge. But, I don't have time to read anymore. Why is that? Why don't I pick up two or three books and crawl into bed and lose myself in the civilization of an ancient time, or try to figure out "who done it" or learn how to do something new. Why?
I look at my days. They are filled with work and walking the dog and cooking the dinner and washing the clothes, and of course there's the iphone, the computer and the TV.
The ONLY time I get time to read is when I travel. I read on planes and trains and buses and waiting in lines. I read in bed. I read in a taxi. I read on the beach. This wandering gene that I was born with must have a connection to the reading gene, because no matter where I'm traveling a book is in my bag.
So I really don't have time to read until I make time to travel.