I read a lot lately, I have good days in which I really stand like a crazy person in the middle of the bad with some slices of apple and cashew beside me, I need food when the book it’s good and keeps me chained to it. I read to find my imagination, lost somewhere in the process of fulfillment. I thought inspiration came from books, and then I realized that it came from feelings, frustrations, dreams, hopes and imagination, not just from books. From books you enrich your imagination and vocabulary, but if your gourd is not generating existential questions, fantasies or aspirations, then you really have nothing to get enrich. You can give to someone like me a thousand chemistry books to read, but if I do not have the base of chemistry, I do not have much to develop, I would say.
