I lived in libraries and classrooms,
More solitary among the living,
More alive in pages turning,
Building my armour and bridges.
The silence at home covered
Flattened noise; obscured dreams and
muffled resentments, darkened mirrors
Seeking to display projected images.
An experience I share with you. I remember my mother saying, there goes Susan, always with her nose in a book. She read a lot herself, once she took to her chair in old age.
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My mother called me a readaholic.
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