I saw a teen girl who was sitting alone on a park bench. In her hands she clutched a book, oblivious to all other sounds around her. Her face seemed to react differently with the turn of each page, she stared at the book as if there was a ghost sitting next to her and reading over her shoulder. Another time she clutched the book with such desperation and longing. She let out a gasp, and I immediately realized that she was reading a mystery novel. The volume of the book marked her as an avid book reader, if not for the speed at which she read or the intensity blazing through her eyes.
November 17, 2011