This is just a sample of the books I have on my list of ones I plan to read. It's a literal representation of the thought at the back of mind that exists in a locked cabinet. It's a tower of titles there too, but a much taller one and not so neatly stacked. It's a teetering pile I can't see the top of, and is an indictment and an urgent call to action. Evidence of my laziness and torpor and a demand to change my priorities, my life. Each moment not spent reading any of the great books I claim to be interested in reveals me to be a fraud. How can I ever hope to be a better writer by watching another YouTube video or scrolling through highlights of English Soccer? The work of the thousands of authors sitting on my shelves grows staler by the hour. Their fire of inspiration will be cold ash by the time I get around to reading them. It's a wonder they don't up and flee my household. 
 

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