Broken Music

Broken Music came in today.  I have a copy, a signed copy tucked away in the safety of plastic but I actually wanted to read it.  It starts where all great stories should  - in the middle of chaos.  I like to read on the bus, hoping someone will ask me "Hey what are you reading?" so I can tell them.  So I can share in how books move me.  I have told more than a handful of people what my favorite book is.  No one reads it.  It makes me wonder if they don't trust my judgement or is it that they just don't care enough about me to even try to understand why these words are so important to me.  I believe you can tell a great deal about someone through what they read.  There is something very secret about a persons choice of novel.  What demons are they exercising?  What loves are they holding mournfully too?  What are they missing in their own lives that they can find escaping into written worlds?  Reading for pleasure should be done often and with great voracity. There are but a handful of people that I truly admire outside my close and personal circle.  Sting is one of them.  I am excited as I've started -  his books are seeping through and I want to read everything that has impacted him - so I can feel closer to him in some strange way - like looking up at the same bright star and the same time.  Words fill us up and we can share that with the ones we love and strangers alike because they are constant.