Do you know those books that are so enjoyable that it’s almost impossible to read them? Because you need to stop after every sentence and let the aesthetic orgasm run its course in your brain? And they make you want to run outside, stop passersby and stick the page under their noses because they are wasting their lives if they haven’t read this?
For instance, Hans Fallada is such a writer for me. He had an opioid addiction, by the way. Died early as a result.
Clarissa's Blog 