Occasionally I catch the train to work.
Most of the time I bury myself into my studies (time is a premium), but about two weeks ago I did see something unexpected.
Before I moved out from my parent’s place (scarily, this happened over a decade ago), I used to have access to all kinds of books. When I was in primary (elementary) school, we were once asked to count all of the books in our house. We stopped around the 3,000 mark. I was a little ashamed when I got to school the next day, knowing that we had fudged the last few hundred. I shouldn’t have worried so much; the next nearest compeditor had about 1,000 books in their house.
So I was never stuck for choice when it came to books. I had read everything by Anne McCaffery by age 12, and once I got hooked into the…
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