Passing down Passion.
I love listening and watching people read to me. The way the words flow out of their mouths, and how they interpret the story. Changing their voices to match the different characters, the way you can see their emotions entangle in the story, it takes you to the world which the author skilfully made, and it takes them there too. In my earliest memories mum would read to me, no matter how many times we read the same book, same story and same adventure she would never fail to deliver the best story. Each time we read it, it was perceived differently; her voice pitch, the excitement of the story and the way her facial and vocal expressions would define who the character was.
When my mum read to me it was like …show more content…
When I was little that was the heaviest book ever and I used to lug it around. In my three-year-old head I used to draw pictures probably of the princesses but in reality it’s just abstract lines and curves to my fifteen year old brain.
My favourite story was Cinderella. I can tell by the way the corner was still folded on that chapter and the way there had been indents of previous folded corners as well. When the evil step mother entered the story, I would get scared. Those wicked witches and evil, no good step parents were too scary for my little mind. But, I always knew I would be fine because my mum would be standing with me, holding my hand while we watched Cinderella sob over her ruined dress. My mum would look after me and the story would always be happily resolved setting me at ease.
The closeness that my mother and I both shared through such a simple act of reading I will never forget. We shared this bond of love, love for each other and our love for reading. My mum would always read to me while I sat in the bath or right before I went to sleep my head resting on the pillow or on her shoulder, my sleepy eyes drew heavier as we read each and every
I love listening and watching people read to me. The way the words flow out of their mouths, and how they interpret the story. Changing their voices to match the different characters, the way you can see their emotions entangle in the story, it takes you to the world which the author skilfully made, and it takes them there too. In my earliest memories mum would read to me, no matter how many times we read the same book, same story and same adventure she would never fail to deliver the best story. Each time we read it, it was perceived differently; her voice pitch, the excitement of the story and the way her facial and vocal expressions would define who the character was.
When my mum read to me it was like …show more content…
When I was little that was the heaviest book ever and I used to lug it around. In my three-year-old head I used to draw pictures probably of the princesses but in reality it’s just abstract lines and curves to my fifteen year old brain.
My favourite story was Cinderella. I can tell by the way the corner was still folded on that chapter and the way there had been indents of previous folded corners as well. When the evil step mother entered the story, I would get scared. Those wicked witches and evil, no good step parents were too scary for my little mind. But, I always knew I would be fine because my mum would be standing with me, holding my hand while we watched Cinderella sob over her ruined dress. My mum would look after me and the story would always be happily resolved setting me at ease.
The closeness that my mother and I both shared through such a simple act of reading I will never forget. We shared this bond of love, love for each other and our love for reading. My mum would always read to me while I sat in the bath or right before I went to sleep my head resting on the pillow or on her shoulder, my sleepy eyes drew heavier as we read each and every