There is truth in it, even if not the whole thing !
It all starts with a different perspective, an understanding that you are, in some way, the Other.
Maybe it starts when your mother, then the thrall of your two-year-old whims, reads the same five books to you every day for three months on end. Pre-school is a better option, the psychiatrist says. How soon can he get in?
Maybe it starts in kindergarten when you raise your hand and tell the teacher you’re disgusted with being forced to read baby books that contain just one word per page. Red, green, doggy, kitty, who gives a shit? When are we going to read real books? you demand to know.
To which your wonderful, inspiring teacher replies, You can’t read real books.
So you pull the biggest book you can find off the shelf and prove her wrong.
Maybe it starts in the library where your teachers now allow you to go…
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