As my reading has grown over the years to be more diverse, my writing has not. It has rather degraded back to the rudimentary level of decades past, I feel. Books I choose to read these days have depth, make me reflect, take the pen and scribble in my journal, or type on Substack or here. Apart from occasional murder mystery and rom com, certain books lately have stayed with me, made me feel seen in ways I didn’t expect. The Anthropologist. Real Life. Butter. The Details.