About Books for Days
Books have always been my best friends, my safe space. Books have made me expand my comfort zone, stretch my imagination. Books have created a shell for me when I have felt the need to retreat from the world, books have found me friends. Books have taught me taste, language, ways of seeing the world.
I say books, but I mean 'art', I mean 'aesthetics' - the joy and soul searching that words on a page, moving images on a screen, paint strokes on a canvas, sound waves just so, can evoke.
Books are just the form of art closest to my heart, because I started on hefty dose of books quite young. Libraries are where I have felt most at home.
But as I grow older, I have started to expand the oeuvre as a connoisseur - cinema, theatre, music, paintings, podcasts, architecture, textile, dance, food.
The only thing I have wanted more than being a connoisseur though, is being an artist myself - a 'writer'. I have nothing to show for it so far. Not for the lack of writing, but only because I am almost an artist, if 'deletion' were an art. I am a 'deletor'. Even though it is logically impossible, I delete more than I write. I have deleted files on computers methodically and mercilessly, almost like it were a therapeutic exercise. I have torn diaries apart, I have shredded sappy pieces of teenage writing, I have unpublished blogs, I have tried to erase my online writing presence.
Nothing I write survives the passage of time. I have yet to learn to let my writing live, if only for the sake of memories.
History shows that the days of this newsletter, too, are limited. But because I am writing here about what I love most - books and art, the beauty of the work produced by others - it may quite possibly survive.
Welcome!
Come say hello on my bookstagram! @booksfordayssss
