Since I leaned what the characters, we call an alphabet, which we stack together in an order to make what we call a word, that represents something I can experience, I have been un-stacking them one letter at a time into my brain and decoding them into what I think they mean.
I am always lost a book.
I have always been, always will be, always am, and always will be reading a book.
Even when a book is no longer a book, I am reading what I identify as a book.
The question is how actively I am reading said material.
Some I have read in a few hours. Some I have dilly dallied around for months. It may or may not be a reflection on the state of the material. It may or may not be a reflection on the state of me.
Last collection of short stories I finished with out finishing it in two months.
Current tome I am lugging around is half read in two days.
Time to read now.
Are my lips moving?