Normally when I'm reading on the métro I'm still aware of where I am, that is, I generally don't lose track of my stop while reading no matter what book I have in hand.

But I found myself reading Shakespeare on the métro last Spring and I did lose track of where I was, albeit briefly.

And it happened more than once.

The strange thing was I didn't consciously find the text particularly complicated, but it must have activated some kind of extrasensory proclivity that momentarily disengaged my smooth flowing relationship with time.

Not even with Faulkner.

Read Shakespeare on the métro! 😌