Youth, remembered

I recently challenged myself to read some of the “classics” I never read during school. There are so many ….

But lately, I find myself looking longingly at children’s books – some that don’t even have words, just beautiful illustrations that speak boldly. I am drawn in by the silent magic of whimsy and delight crinkling among the pages. By that urge to believe in all the possible explanations for the mysteries and wonders of the everyday. By that wish to understand the world in broad innocent terms not deterred or distorted by nuance or experience. Plus: a gander through a children’s book beats a romp through Proust any day.

So now my challenge has changed: I plan to let my bedside table – and thus possibly my dreams? – be filled with all the giddy and bright imaginings of youth.

Marcel can wait.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s