But define ‘into it’. July 30th, Bangkok.
I finally got to a bookshop today. Sadly not one of those fifty floor dreamworlds, but still a fair dazeland. And it was like drugs.
I have been dying to get to a bookstore since we pretty much got here, so when asked whether to stop by Mango or magazines, I’m not even ashamed to admit I bellowed for the latter (also emptied the Mango chest quite thoroughly a week ago). It felt good to roam the corridors from Awkward Airplanes to Zebras of Zimbabwe, occasionally swirling in between erasable ball points and a planner promotion. From time to time I even gazed at the Ellie Goulding posters in the music section, where they sell those archaic things they call CDs or whatever. A walk down memory lane really.
Today the selection of books did not quite live up to what I had hoped for, but I ended up getting The Picture of Dorian Gray, which I have been wanting to read for a while now. It is my grandmother’s favourite book, and also the favourite of my old English teacher. Having been devoted to The Age of Innocence for the past few weeks, my secret of becoming as well read as them is becoming apparent. Oh well, let it become a reality.
I started this book on the floor between shelves at the store (let’s face it, the lonely carpet between novel mountains is a happy place), and it will be my companion tomorrow afternoon by the pool. You know the one.