so far, this is my latest: Kafka on the Shore
i've read the first few pages on my way home from work. i'm stuck in the dusty jam-packed road along Banilad highway and it itches me to flip even just the cover.
i'm glad i still have this appreciation to books as what i had way back in high school when i first started to like reading. i even give justice to every novels that i've read which is to finish them in a coffee shop.
finishing this book, gave me this temporary moon struck. although this one, compared to his other books, have this vague or let say weak resolution in the end--- but threads of unspeakable memories disgorged out from the labyrinth of my being just the way his other works had an effect on me.
Everytime that i come across to this book in my room (dusty and wrinkled); the book, the plot together with its characters, always reminds me of a seaweed washed away on a shore. Once a part of the vast community of weeds, it has been uprooted and remain alone with its journey to wherever the current pushes it. This lonely floating weed might have came across with magnificent creatures and wonderful seascape until it finally reach the shore and retired with the emptry shells and pebbles on the sand.
It might look so dried up and battered, but imagine the experience this seaweed went through compared to those remained deeply rooted.