“I do not find the pleasure in reading anymore”

Someone I deeply care about recently told me.

These words hit me hard. You have to understand; words, books, reading is something we have always shared with this person. It is -I should say was- our thing. Some people you meet via mutual friends, some in dusty street bookstores, some in dingy pubs and others in upstate pristine coffee shops. If you are like me, where and how you meet people define your friendship; makes it special even. Words brought us together those many years ago when the world was young and bright.

I was young and looking to learn the tools of the trade while my friend H was a writer. Those early years in our friendship are marked with us hunched over sheets of my work; H critiquing it and me nodding furiously. I was both awed and a tad embarrassed by the stuff I was writing those days but it was never an issue with H. Besides writing, we both love(d) reading. I remember exchanging books, spending hours discussing characters, arguing style and language. I can still call back that thrill I had reading V.S. Naipaul for the first time at the recommendation of H. And every time I pick up Naipaul I am young again and discovering new worlds.

For H to then wake up one fine morning and respond to my text asking about a current read with a casual I do not find the pleasure in reading anymore broke my fucking heart. I stared on my cell waiting for an explanation. Anything. So, how’s Summer so far? I don’t want to talk about the damn weather H, I want to know why you think you can wake up one morning and decide you don’t like reading anymore.


I am one for change. I get both apprehensive and excited. I have had many monumental instances of change and they are etched in my heart. The most important part of change, I feel, is when you are just into the thick of change, the very first moments, hours or days. It is important to fully experience the onset of change. I have since resulted to documenting my very first days of change because once you get the hang of it that feeling is gone forever. You can’t get it back. Until the next change and we all know no two changes are the same. Having said this, I can’t understand why someone would just wake up one morning and decide not to give a fuck anymore about something they once loved so. I just can’t.


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