A first glance of what I read this year
I’m preparing something for the end of the year. And looking back at it, it seems as I have not clung to my feet. Yet. As if everything I’ve done was done by someone else, someone I don’t identify as anymore. But it was me all along.
Happiness–as if I knew what that feels like–is what comes to my mind whenever I look back. Oh how grateful I am for keeping track of those ideas in this little place that this blog is–and in notebooks. You should try it: it’s a gift to glance back and see all the things you’ve accomplished, no matter how small-stupid-wild-important they are.
People say writers and readers are somewhat insane. However, the thing that brings me the most back to sanity is writing and reading. And what I noticed, reading-wise, is that this was the year I read the most poetry. But considering the number of books I read in 2015, it makes perfect sense that the total amount of poetry books read is above 20.
A poet shade a light in my reading interests this year. And poetry saved me–and still does–from those times when attention span is too poor to read texts that are too large. Although reading keeps me save, there are times in which I can’t concentrate.
That’s when poetry comes in. And a passion for brevity grew in: both for reading and writing.
I’d read these short lines, full of meaning and wisdom, and everything would be brought together nicely, letting me having a clear (or less blurry) understanding.
And then I’d be capable of reading larger narrative.
Narrative holds me to the place where I can hold myself again.