For when we suffer without complaint, we are rewarded.
I am on the last few pages of the damned book I was talking about a post ago. A book which I described with "Bashing this teenage novel is far more entertaining and mind-exhaustive than reading it. This whole book is just worrying. Worry worry worry...." (does not qualify as complaining because I am practically talking to myself or to no one in particular who is in the authority to change things or actually be pestered by my whining. Blogging win!). Boredom causes a far more painful death than a badly written novel so I decided to finish reading it.
After turning up an hour late at my driving lessons today, I moved to this cafe/library a ride away from our home. The establishment has been occupying the back of my mind because the walls of the cafe has a wild immediate history. It was once a haunted house made of rotten wood, renovated into a dream mansion, bought and converted into an English school for Koreans and now it serves coffee to bookworms - most of which are still Korean.
A poster trying to recruit Italian chefs made it even more irresistible. I was craving for vegetarian pasta but after I saw the menu on an illuminated board, I realized that they should have removed the poster if they already had an Italian chef. Its awkward to go out of a cafe without buying anything so I decided to shower my afternoon with my favorite - a cup of caramel macchiato.
I had not intent of grabbing a book from one of the shelves in the store. Driving almost consumed all the eye muscle work for the day and I wanted to take a rest but a particular book with a green popsicle on its cover begged me to strain my eyes a little more. Then I fell into the misunderstood realm of an eating disorder.
This discusses anorexia in aesthetics similar to Aronofsky's Black Swan. Ibi Kaslik is a Hungarian-Canadian and reading the novel which is written in two perspectives, I theorized she probably had an intimate battle with anorexia. Its either she had it or she saw it consuming someone. Or she is just a gifted writer.
And don't get me started on how I enjoy the psychological thriller genre illuminated with dark imagery. I was bitter for weeks that Black Swan didn't win the Best Picture award. I have interest in psychiatry and how humans think. The millions of strands of muscles in our body are but slaves to our brains.
Now, I have to go to that cafe everyday to finish the book. I hope no one discovers the treasure because I don't want to be an early bird at a cafe or to argue over a book.
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