One of the things I love to do most in life is read a good book. In London I had a veritable library in our tiny apartment. When we moved to Los Angeles, the books came with us, and were most of what we moved, those and kitchen items... After my breakdown, and subsequent move back home, the books weighed heavily on my mind and were burdensome to me. I was disturbed by them and I threw them all out... I am sad now, I had some really enjoyable reads in that collection. I could have at least donated them to the library, or maybe a secondhand book seller... I miss them. Recently I have ordered some books online from Amazon, some of them books I had before, but almost all different editions. Still, I'm glad to find them. Right now I am still reading Out of Africa, for the third time in my life and am nearly finished. I have to choose from for my next book The Wisdom of No Escape, How to Practice, The Major Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh and The Years in Dijon. I am looking forward to this reading, even though with schizophrenia I find reading much more difficult. I used to devour the page, now I tiptoe along, as though barefoot on a stony path. It is hard to concentrate for any length of time, so I'm having to take it in sets. But at least I am reading again. Soon maybe I will be able to listen to music again, I hope so. For out with my library went 500 cds, a nice collection of music I had amassed in London. Well, I am lighter in my possessions, but still hungry of mind. That at least is better than I have been in the past few years, full of sleep and drugged of mind. I have made negotiations with the effects of my medications. I will tolerate, if it will bend and allow. So far so good...
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June 2017
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