I’ve read 12 books in the last 32 days. That is quite a few books, especially considering that I’ve been traveling around Europe and taking an intensive language class at the same time. It’s amazing how I had forgotten that part of myself. I was so caught up in other important life projects that I lost something that I really loved. I’ve hardly read a thing for fun in years, and somehow it was really freeing. It reminded me of how I got into literature and how quickly I get connected to a story and characters. At a time when I’m trying to define who I am and make decisions about who I will become, it was nice to rediscover who I’ve been and realize that it’s still a big part of my heart. Surprisingly, remembering is a big part of becoming.