i have been reading harry potter like crazy. just within the last week i have read from book 1 to half of book 3. i want to be done with the 6th book, just in time when the 7th comes out in july.

when i open the bedroom window and sit on the floor with the book, munching on a carrot and patting my belly, its almost like i’m telling my baby that it should indulge in reading too when it comes alive.

the way the air blows into the room, and my breath smells of carotene, it all reminds me of the days almost 5 years ago, when i was 14 and up in a tree, reading the same story. the same way.

nothing about the story is real. that’s what makes me want to read it even more. he asks me why i’m wasting my time on rubbish, and i tell him he’s missing out big time. i like it.

i read it at lunch. i read it when i get home from school. i read it at the gym. i read after our arguments and i read before going to bed. i read because i want to believe…things come to a fair end.