It’s the strangest thing, to come to the end of a book.
I’ve been reading a lot lately, a book a day or every other day, reading far into the night when I’m supposed to be sleeping, waking before my alarm and reading with one eye closed and my cat burrowing under the comforters because it is always, always so cold in the mornings.
The strangest thing to come to the end.
There’s always a part of me that wants to start right back at the beginning again.
If you do it quick enough, it’s like the never-ending story. Words long enough to dizzy you for days. Words loud enough to deafen the din of everything else you’re supposed to be doing instead.
photographs taken at Murphy Ranch in Los Angeles, California