I read at breakfast. I take in snippets. I ingest the words in short bursts, inbetween the up and down of getting things, sorting things. It’s a different form of taking in. I savour what I read, the sentences play out in my head. At the moment I am in Tom Lubbock’s last book. I don’t want it to end. I want to have it in my mouth for a while. To not suck too hard. To not rush it. Every word needs to be considered. Her’s was different. That was urgent, a rush headlong. This is a musing. A slow soak. Of ideas.
