Today has been a tough day.
The day job is uninspiring, mundane and a trial to get through. I struggle to engage with any aspect of it. I cannot even suffer through the days with colleagues, since I work in a quiet office with just one other person who is often absent.
I am an accountant and I a) can't imagine how I tripped and fell into something such as this and b) can't comprehend how utterly different it is from my true love in life. Which would be books.
I adore books. I love every part of them - from the browsing and choosing of them; to the deciding which one to read next; to the cracking open of the first page and not knowing quite what is ahead of you. I love being transported to different worlds. I love being so frustrated with a book that I throw it down in disgust. I enjoy the use of words, the formation of sentences, the lushness of truly great prose.
Books are my sanctuary. They are my hiding place. They shield me from a world that is often too terrible to contemplate. They provide me with inspiration, regret, humble appreciation and melancholy.
Every time I come into work and struggle through my eight hours I have the knowledge that a book is always waiting for me.
To those authors who read this: you made this. I am eternally thankful.