Being in Limbo has it’s distinct advantages, my favorite being more time to read. That’s one of the glories of travel–no matter how alone you feel on the road, a book offers someplace to escape to. While I was still in the East Bay I found myself buried in books about Ghana, Africa in General, Colonialism, Imperialism, and World History. They were all fantastic and made me look forward to a new adventure. Now that I’m here, I find that I love books about venturing into the unknown. The authors have become my friends, their struggles are my struggles, and I feel like I can come to them with anything, though of course we’ve never met. The only problem is that once I finish a REALLY good book, I always feel a little hollow–no one else who hasn’t read it knows where I’ve been in my literary journeying. That’s where you come in, good people of the interwebs. I’m going to post about things I’ve read here on this page rather than pretending to talk to George Packer (the former Peace Corps volunteer who’s book I’m currently reading who totally gets me and whom I’ve never met) about it. Think of it as suffering for art. And if you think my taste is bunk, leave a comment telling me why and recommending something better, or better yet, check out the “Better Blogs” page and block this site from your browser.