I like the mindlessness of just flipping thru a magazine or photo book. There is nothing to understand. Like Grace Kelly’s character Lisa Fremont at the end of “Rear Window,” i look at colorful photos of handbags, Versace ads and models looking amazing in their clothes. It’s comforting to me to have so many books around me, but i don’t necessarily read them, say, if I happen to be sitting near a couple of small stacks. Maybe they’re a ruse for laziness, tendencies to drift and dream, noseyness (when i’m in a public place). My cat hangs out or even sleeps sometimes near her toys, but she doesn’t necessarily play with them.