I have always been reading. As long as I can remember. So I suppose at least from the moment, that I learned the alphabet. I got many books in my youth, took them from my brothers bookshelves, and from the, forbidden, parents bookshelves, borrowed them from the library. So I read all the books, that I could get.
It has been all my life a pleasure to wander through the bookshops. As it is nowadays through the wider world of the online bookshops. And I welcomed the ereaders and the likes from the moment they were there. Physical books or ebooks, I don’t mind, all are good, if I can read.
I read because I love the words, the language, the stories, the discoveries, the memories, the familiar and the unknown.
I only need my mind and the letters of the alphabet.
I read all kinds of books, novels, study books, art books, you name it. They all have 2 things in common. They show me familiar situations, to keep me reading. And they show me unknown situations, to keep me reading.
I write about my thoughts and feelings. Perhaps a short description. But do not expect any expertise here. And certainly no good or bad judgement or more or less stars. You will never hear me tell you, that you should read this or that book, or just not.
You will hear only some more or less loose, incoherent, coincidental thoughts and feelings. About books I feel close to.
Well, if I succeed to put them into words.
Will be continued…
Some years ago, I visited Champmol in Dijon, the grounds of the old monastery of 
