The month, and with it the reading series, ended in a way I didn’t expect.

On the 29th of June, you would think a nine-hour train ride would have been the perfect environment to read more than I had all month combined. And it was. Particularly because the delays turned it into fifteen. Passing through mountain ranges while rain splattered against the windows surrounding us, it felt as though time had stood still. The train became its own ecosystem, gliding through landscapes that seemed to move only because we did.

I pulled on my knitted sweatshirt, a small luxury after the heatwave we’d managed to outrun, wandered through the carriages, and settled into the café instead.

That’s when I began a movie marathon.

Shattered Glass (2003)
The End of the Tour (2015)
The Last Letter from Your Lover (2021)

By the time the credits rolled, I’d filled pages in my notebook, sketched strangers across the aisle, and painted with the little watercolour kit I bought in Venice. Somewhere between Germany and Denmark, I realised I’d spent an entire day creating, watching, and observing, while the book I’d carried across three countries never left my bag.

It wasn’t an accident. I have a habit of avoiding the things that become obligations, and somewhere along the way, reading had become one. What started as a hobby slowly turned into another item on a checklist. Every page goal, every daily update, nudged it further from leisure and closer to responsibility. I wasn’t avoiding reading. I was avoiding another task.

That doesn’t mean the project failed.

The first few weeks worked exactly as I’d hoped. I found ways to read in places I never would have before, and I discovered that books could fill the quiet moments between work, commutes, and obligations instead of being reserved for perfect afternoons that never seemed to arrive. More importantly, I learned something about myself that I probably wouldn’t have without documenting the process.

On the 30th, we spent the day in Copenhagen. I wrote, picked up my photography project again and, finally, finished The Unwilding.

Now, with four weeks ahead designed simply to experience life the way I want to, I’m curious to see what happens when the pressure disappears. I suspect I’ll read more, not less.

Maybe that’s the real outcome of this series. I didn’t build the reading habit I expected to. Instead, I learned the conditions under which I actually want to read.

So I’m leaving June behind without a page target, a daily deadline, or a number to chase. Just a stack of books. Here are the ones making the journey with me.

Read more about my July TBR and the best short books you can read within a Beach Day!