I took it upon myself to read all of Bukowski’s poetry during quarantine. I usually read in the bathtub drinking wine, so all of my books from that time have a nice ripple effect to them. Sort of special that way. They remind me of of a dreamier time, a younger me, a married me. I was so hungry and curious for knowledge during quarantine, so desperate to fill each day with forward motion. I look back fondly on that time, and my crinkled bathtub books. 🛁📚