I love reading and writing. Actually, some books, I’m so glad I’ve read them I consider myself a lucky person. Just for that. However, no matter how deep my love for reading and writing is, I could never sit at my desk for hours and hours every single day. And keep on reading and writing. Fact is, after a while I’ve been sitting my legs need, or rather reclaim, their share of activity. I get restless. My mind begins to wander. And I either find myself rereading whole passages I’ve already read while zoning out on a sort of autopilot, or rewriting passages I’ve written under the arcane spell of the same atrocious autopilot. Because, if it’s true that practice makes perfect, it has to be of the right kind.