My relationship with books is what you might call unhealthily zealous. After all, the place in which I spend hours at the mall is the bookstore. My favourite designer (Olympia Le Tan) makes clutches that look like books. My childhood fixation revolved around strategically hiding books when I was over my library borrowing limit, alongside incessantly rearranging my bookshelf, and ultimately, I flatly refuse to date guys who don't read. Reading seems to cover most aspects of my life and has, by far, been a life-long love affair that has yet to wither.
So with Bangkok being appointed this year's World Book Capital, my inner bookworm is doing the happy dance.
Nonetheless, the way I have been living these past few years seems to suggest otherwise. As a person who used to go through books as if they were tissues, my reading rate has dramatically dropped to barely five books per year.
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