There is nothing more pleasurable than reading a true, real book. One with pages, and smells, and wrinkles and history.
…but when the heft of an authentic book breaks your back in an already overstuffed (and not in a MK Olsen kind of way…) bag, there’s always the trusty kindle to get you through the rough times. Paired with a cup of organic green tea, nothing is more soothing on a cloudy Friday morning, and nothing reminds me more of morning-time in my London flat.
Maybe it’s the message, not the medium, that really matters anyway, right?