once a book nerd …

Reading has always been a private thing.

For some people, it still is — something done quietly, without explanation, and without needing to be turned into something useful. It’s simply time spent sitting with words, images, or familiar stories, because it feels good to have them nearby.

These moments often sit alongside, yet often separate from, everyday life. But they’re not empty. Time spent alone with a book can feel expansive, but it also keeps us grounded. 

It was the same when we were younger, when books didn’t need to justify themselves.

For some, this kind of reading never disappeared entirely. 

For others, it might have gone quiet, waiting patiently.

Either way, there’s no requirement to outgrow it here.

Some stories still carry something steady and familiar. Some books are worth opening simply because they feel like old companions, even before the first page is turned.

We can’t ask anything more of them.