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“Hello, darling. Sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known. You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together to make a creature that will do what I say or love me back.”—Richard Siken
I’ve always wanted someone to let me read to them (and for them to actually enjoy it).
Books are a huge part of my life. They are pretty much essential to who I am as a person. Sometimes I even tend to like books more than people. I love the feel of them, the smell of them. I love to get lost in a story. And I don’t find a lot of people who share that level of enjoyment of the written word with me. So naturally, sharing a favorite book of mine with someone - as in showing it to them and suggesting they read it and them doing so and enjoying it - is a wonderful feeling.
But hearing a book read aloud is an entirely different experience than when you simply read it in your head. Depending on who is reading the words, it can completely change the way you imagine a character, or even your interpretation of the story and whether or not you even enjoy it. And so for someone to allow me to read from a favorite book of mine to them, and for them to not only enjoy the experience, but love the words themselves as much as I do, would be a much more personal, intimate thing for me. It would be like showing them a piece of my soul.