Reading life

I am a life optimist. I sincerely believe that I am on a magnificent journey leading…. I don’t know where. My companions are my loved ones and the myriad of books, I carry with me either in bulk or in memory. I don’t know where I would be if it had not been for the many, many paths, I have tried through books.

I have walked through the streets of New York with Typhoid Mary by my side. I have been re-educated in a tiny village on a huge mountain near the Tibetan border. I have seen vampires, murderers, and answered to Henry VIII for my actions.

My life isn’t a fairy tale, but it is a good story, whether or not it is ever written down. The same goes for every person I have encountered if they dare to open up and share their chapters. A delicious part of my life are the books I read – and without them, I would be less happy and my life would be smaller; the horizon would be closer.

This is one of reason why I read. Reading is “udlængsel” (in Danish) or wanderlust (in English and German). It is the yearning for new experiences and travelling. Reading is also a comfort; the warm blanket that reminds me, no matter my current state, that the next chapter holds something new.


  1. The Brain in the Jar

    I wouldn’t call reading a ‘comfort’. it’s a pure intellectual exercise, but it contains endless varied ones. Every book is a new challenge that I approach with excitement and fear. Every book I finish contributes a little to my worldview.

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