“It’s a bookshelf and reading nook-thing all in one.” WANT!
This reminds me of something I was thinking about the other day, namely my reading habits when I was a kid. I read in normal places like the love seat in my Dad’s office, the chaise lounge on the back porch, or while laying in my bed. But when I think back to those days the reading spot that sticks out the most for me was the little wedge of space in between the wall and my bed.
I would slither down the wall that my bed was pressed up against, pushing the bed slightly away from the wall in the process, and slide into the little gap between the baseboard and the frame of my bed. I would read there—the dim light available for reading was probably not very good for my eyes—for long periods of time, cocooned away from the world. And sometimes, I would just put the book down and drift off into thought, daydreams fueled by whatever I was reading at the time.
For the longest time I thought this meant I was weird. But, I have run into many people since who were voracious readers when they were kids who seem to have done some sort of similar cocooning when they read. It makes me wonder if this is some universal, child-like tendency showing itself in this particular way in kids who like to read, or if this type of “nesting”, for want of a better word, really is just the purview of those of us grew up spending hours on end with Robinson Crusoe, Nancy Drew, Bilbo, and Aslan.
[via: pam is awesome everyday]