Honesty is a motherfucker.
– How to Stop time, Matt Haig
I’ve been doing a lot more reading recently. James Smythe’s “The Machine” has proven to be a gripping read and I am still reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s well written (but not really my-type-of-thing) “The signature of all things”.
My quest for stories is taking me to new places. There are various reasons for reading: edification, illumination, perhaps escapism, a possibility to lead different lives. I look for universal and sublimes stories that do not push or endorse any partivcular agenda, but focus, rather, in human experience. I love classics for their depth and scope and I like any story that feels sincere. Frankly, I hate cynicism and cunning and artifices and pretensions. I see too much of that around me, perhaps all guided by a fear of some sort. I like to believe in gentleness, innocence and a certain heartfelt naivete which offers simple, small kindnesses without asking for anything back. Coming from such a place means that for me any story is worthwhile if it is well-intentioned and genuine but it must also resonate with me in some way. I have found that to be the case with Matt Haig’s “How to Stop time”.