One thing about me is that I love to judge a book by its cover. I mean this literally. I find myself buying books I know that I will never read. It’s unfortunate. I buy them, put them on my bookshelf that is organized by color (mostly), and then let dust settle on them. 

Each of these unread books carries a small spark of who I thought I might become. Someone who I thought would read every night and collect different stories and insight. Even if the pages remained untouched by me, the books still hold meaning. They represent beautiful intentions, a timeline of moments when I believed a single purchase could turn me into a lifelong reader, and forgotten hobbies.