Reading

On a completely different note, I love reading.

It makes me more interesting and it makes my life more colorful. Well, more than colorful, it adds depth and dimension into my life. I suppose to continue with the color analogy, it adds more hues and light. More contrast perhaps? Or less. Either way, it makes it more interesting.

And Murakami, though I don't like that he used a similar protagonist from Norwegian Wood, is still a freaking genius. I wish there was a better way to emphasize his genius. I don't know if it's a matter of translation that makes the way he expresses things so beautiful, but he's just brilliant. He doesn't seem as affected as Kundera too. Kundera strikes me (from the glimpse of him I got in the author's note at the end of The Joke) as the type of guy who in some ways has a stick up his ass (for the lack of a better way of putting it). I mean he's very very precise, which is good but it almost seems in a pretentious no-one-understands-me kind of way. Which I suppose could be taken in a good and a bad way. Eh. He's still one of my favorite authors. Man, with all this good writing, it makes me wonder when I'll be able to read everything that I want to in this world. Heh.

I love the world of books.