Read a book

When I read a book—any printed book that interests me, seduces me, excites me, or challenges me—I usually do so with a pencil or two in my hand; to which, previously, I have sharpened the tip and use to underline words, lines, paragraphs and even pages and complete chapters that require to be read more than once or many times. This makes the simple act of reading—either silently or aloud—become too slow and often a stop and wonder about this or that, which almost always has to do with what you think or feel at that moment. It is true that I read and underline and re-underline parts of the text, yes; but, at the same time, as if it were an enthusiastic conversation or as if it were a dialogue: I write between the margins, between the lines or in any unwritten space that I find in each of the pages I walk. Without my scriptural delirium escaping: portadilla, interior of the cover or the back cover, legal sheet or others added at the beginning or end of the already by then precious volume and the moment arrives – always comes the time – when it becomes like a body tattooed on all its surface; so much so that, suddenly, there is no longer a place available where a line, a word or a letter can be written down; and trying to read it again, becomes an impossible task to fulfill. Then, in one way or another, there is nothing left but to buy another copy and strive not to fall into the temptation of underlining it or writing anything about it, although I must admit that this is almost impossible to achieve.



Original source in Spanish