And so the predictable happens again. Hiding away from all of my own problems by immersing myself in well crafted stories of grandeur. As a child, it was the youthful tales of Enid Blyton and Roald Dahl that held my fancy. Tales of faeries and elves, of toys and the lives that they lead, of witches, and magical mishaps of every type imaginable. I've been able to read for as long as I can remember, and able to write almost as long. I've always been grateful for that, because from an early age, when things got tough, I could find a quiet hideyhole and curl up with a good book. As I got older, I turned to the Harry Potter series, admittedly only getting through the first one with some coercion, but after that I was captivated by JK Rowling's world of magic and wonder, and to this day, I'm still an avid Potterhead. Right now however, I'm sitting in a library, having just finished reading some manga. I reread volume 8 of Ouran High School Host Club, a great series. I also started reading La Corda d'Oro. As a few of my friends (Hi Melon and Mayo) would probably point out, these are both shoujo manga, or girls manga. So like, all the lovey dovey shit. But hey, each to their own, right? It's slightly calming to read about high schoolers whose biggest problems are love and infatuation.
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