Whenever I sit at the kitchen table I’m faced with a bookcase packed with worlds I haven’t read… yet.
Whenever I sit in front of the TV there’s another bookcase to the left, filled with books I’ve mostly read, so I don’t feel so guilty just sitting there absorbing a new story through the television.
Whenever I sit upstairs at my desk I’m constantly drawn to the bookcase filled with notebooks and stories scripted with scribbles and sporadic scene descriptions.
Whenever I go to bed I’m reminded by the bookcase to the right there are still so many stories I’ve yet to discover, perhaps I’ll encounter a few while dreaming.
Whenever I move I’m going to need a lot of boxes for books.