in mid 2019 i posted about how i’d read only 400 books in my lifetime, according to what i have been able to remember and track on goodreads. at some time this year that number will reach 600. +200 books in six years is, at first gut reaction, terrible. but really that is more than thirty books per year on average. way more than the average person reads. yet it feels so very very small. to say ‘i can’t read enough’ does not convey the sad frustration of such a situation. i literally am unable to read enough to satisfy myself. there is not enough time in life to read everything that i want to read. more of me and my must be sacrificed to books. chess must be sacrificed, work must be sacrificed, study and photography and ‘the out doors’ must be sacrificed, sleep must be sacrificed, relationships, ‘normal behavior’ must be sacrificed to books. then, maybe I will begin to feel satisfied, and lessen the nagging pang that tells me I’m wasting the majority of my minutes by not reading.