When I was a child I loved reading. I think I started reading at 3 but you would have to confirm that with my parents. One of my favourite things to do was curl up with my Big Bird and read along with him. He was so cool; Big Bird sat in a nest, you put a tape in him and he read to you from the corresponding book. I loved it.
As I grew older my passion for reading continued. I can recall making my parents buy me a heap of books when we went to the States; books were cheaper there and I could get all the new Babysitter’s Club books. I would be mostly finished my first novel before we got to the border.
If I’m caught up in a book I will barely hear anything around me…and I hate putting them down. I’m like a small child.
Last week I picked up the Hunger Games series last week. I finished the Trilogy tonight. Honestly I could not put it down…I love getting lost in a book, empathising with characters. I find myself wishing I knew them in real life. For example, in the Hunger Games I loved Peeta. He was everything I would want in a man and I found myself rooting for him throughout the entire trilogy, hoping he’d survive. Maybe I just have a very overactive imagination but when I finish a book I feel a bit lost.
Maybe it’s not books, maybe it’s film, or a TV series, or perhaps it’s something crafty like knitting or painting. What takes you away, allows you your release and time away from reality?