I keep delaying having to study. I don't know if I'd end up regretting this when November comes, but I'm still learning right? Haha, just not the things that'll come out in the board exams I guess.
Last night and this morning I started and finished reading Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns. It was beautiful, and I'm still hooked. Here's one of my favorite excerpts from the book. I was tearing-up and the hair on my arms were standing through this part (SPOILER ALERT!!!)...
Except every once in a long while, when Laila was a grown woman, ironing a shirt or pushing her children on a swing set, something trivial, maybe the warmth of a carpet beneath her feet on a hot day or the curve of a stranger's forehead, would set off a memory of that afternoon together. And it would all come rushing back. The spontaneity of it. Their astonishing imprudence. Their clumsiness. The pain of the act, the pleasure of it, the sadness of it. The heat of their entangled bodies.
It would flood her, steal her breath.
But then it would pass. The moment would pass. Leave her deflated, feeling nothing but a vague restlessness.
She decided that he had said Am I hurting you? Yes. That was it. Laila was happy that she'd remembered.
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