Every time I pass by a bookstore, I stand there for a few minutes but I avoid entering. Yesterday, like a lot of days before, I stood outside a bookstore as I sipped my latte. Sip by sip, I browsed the bestseller shelf through the large glass panel but I didn’t enter the store.
There was a time when I finished books in one single day. I’d start reading a book somewhere in the morning and not move till nightfall and the story was over. I consumed novels faster than I could buy them. Gradually, life got busier. That empty head fully capable of imagining characters, scenarios and stories wasn’t so empty anymore courtesy notes, formulas, drama, and other things about life.
Slowly, I reached the point where I could buy books faster than I could consume them… and I did. I bought a lot of books and I read very few of them. I would start some of them out of guilt and never go past the first chapter. Some, I read halfway through and dropped. Some I didn’t even bother to open. I bought them because they looked cool and the synopses were interesting.
This one book landed in my cart after I read an article about how it was controversial and might be pulled off the shelves. I hoarded that book like Pooh hoards honey right before winters. Currently, I have five books in my cupboard that I’m yet to touch. The number becomes fourfold if I include the books I have left back home. The situation is only getting worse. Me and my classic case of tsundoku. On the positive side of things, someone might inherit a very diverse personal library from me some time in the near or distant future which is nice, at least for them.
Until then, every single time I pass a bookstore, I’ll stand there for a few minutes but avoid entering. I’ll stand outside as I sip my latte. Sip by sip, I’ll browse the bestseller shelf through the large glass panel but I won’t enter the store… because if I do, I’ll walk out with yet another book I won’t bother reading.