Early days
The earliest time I can track in my mind of myself reading gets to my school library, checking one comic of The Adventures of TinTin1. During that time, of course it was clear to me that reading was a fundamental skill not only to learn, but also to have fun. I still ask myself where that feeling went to since years later I found extremely difficult to even focus while reading a small passage.
Yet, I do remember having a blast while reading from trips to Egypt and finding hints in crime scenes. This feeling started fading away when I entered highschool, and I needed to learn more complex titles. From L’étranger to Huasipungo, readings just started to be boring and tedious.
Those old days were a torture to my reading interests as the previously mentioned books were long, meaningless and not properly covered by the teachers. I even recall having read The Metamorphosis by Kafta as an attempt to scape the sentence of reading such horrible books.
Not so early days
During my undergraduate program, the problem did not change indeed. It only became worse. Books covered in the different classes were not helpful not engaging when it comes to learning or improving my knowledge skills. Books dicussed were The Kitte Runner, The Boy in Stripper pajamas and Pride and Prejudice.
The ones I’ve loved
Nonetheless, not all books I’ve read are hideous nor dredful. There have been some that I devoured (pun intented) as they were related to zombies. It also might have been due to the author, Carlos Sisi, that all his books were as if the words were getting into my neurons to create more signals in an amicable fashion.
