A Girl Who Reads

Readers are leaders and it is not girl who reads alone, a woman should date a man who reads and perchance writes. Is it the understanding, variety, and intelligence they bring to the table? Readers have open minds and not closed minds and they have a wider horizon about life so they are not boxed into a corner. above all they understand people because they have met many characters and you are not going to be new to them. So get yourself a reader or a reader/writer and make your life more interesting!

La vie en rose🌹

cropped-cropped-cropped-picmonkey-collage11 Image Source: Google Images

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If…

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googling GOD ?

  A God that can be understood is no God. Who can explain the Infinite in words? – The Razor’s Edge – W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Everyone ought to worship God according to his own inclinations, and not to be constrained by force – Flavius Josephus ‘Life’ (37-100AD)   After almost 70 posts on this … Continue reading googling GOD ?

How I found myself through fashion.

Chai High

Fashion saves me. Everyday.

Some see it as an annoying intruder, a pointless culture, and a distraction from what’s important. Others see it as an occasional indulgence meant to be partaken in, only during special occasions. And a few, like me, see it as an integral party of the everyday, a constant saviour in the journey of life.

When I was little, my mother dressed me up in smocking frocks with peter-pan collars and puff sleeves, matching ribbons for my hair – little bows, white socks, and smart Mary-Janes. I was the “well-dressed” child in every circle, never without a missing ribbon or shoe, never with snot running down my face, and never in flimsy spaghetti straps and careless hot-pants. I was quiet, well-behaved, and disciplined enough to sit with my shoes and socks, white without a speck of dirt, at parties.

I wasn’t a cute child. I wasn’t adorable or talkative. And…

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