I have discovered with sadness, that my son’s generation doesn’t read. I started telling him stories in the evening, after turning off the lights. Grown child’s monologues. When he started asking me to come home earlier, I knew I had to write my own stories, about my world. Built upon a base that would say more to him than dusty books shelved in a library.
“My very dearest, reading helps you dream, helps you become an astronaut and magician at the same time, helps you learn without suffering. Knowledge gained through reading destroys those frontiers that keeps us prisoners in a space too narrow for our vast energies; makes us into heroes, like the demon vanquishers in your games. Holiday is here, it is your time, don’t waste it. One day, Bucharest’s still standing linden trees will afflict you with love. Love has a need for words, same words, for thousands of ears. The girls who are worth cherishing will demand masterful words in return for their attention.
