My entire life I have loved
reading. I can still remember
announcing to my parents,
"I can read! I can read!"
A whole new world opened
its doors to me; and I wasn't
happy unless I read a book a
day. Obviously, starting with
Dick and Jane and finally
arriving at Shakespeare's door
lo those many years later.
My idea of heaven was the
library, especially as shekels
were few and desire was great.
Having said that, I would use
my small allowance to keep
my faves close to my heart.
Truly, my pride would never
have allowed me to read any-
thing silly, romances, never!
Cervantes was always a fave
in Spanish, Shakespeare's
counterpart, as it were.
And now, perhaps a proper
confession is in order. Maybe
I've never read comedy or
romance, but you ought to see
me eat up murder mysteries.
Methinks my father would be
appalled . . .
I console myself by thinking,
"At least they're not dime
romance novels." Many a time
have I addressed my love of
reading, but a confession has
been a long time coming.
A few years from my own
passing, I intend to keep sinning
as hard and as fast as I can!
Murder awaits . . . no shit
Sherlock!!!
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