![]() Plastered all over Instagram and recommended by my dear friend Caitie, Cleopatra and Frankenstein by Coco Mellors came as a welcome relief and a picture-perfect remedy to what was a seemingly never-ending, God-awful reading slump. Thankfully, as often happens when it comes to my reading life, a book found me exactly when I needed it. ![]() I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve started a new novel, only to read a chapter or two before giving up, and leaving said book to collect dust on one of the many stacks of books piled up around my apartment.Īnd, now that my boyfriend has moved in with me, long and lazy evenings curled up on my sofa with a book have been replaced with night, after night, after night glued to Breaking Bad (I know I’m fifteen years late but, here we are). Drowning in on-going visa dramas and the uncertainty of living in a country where I’m not a permanent resident has – it’s safe to say – had something of a dire effect on my inclination for books. ![]() ![]() Thus far, 2022 has not been a great year for reading. ![]()
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