I'm drifting in the in-between

What makes reality and

What makes a dream? 

Look who's back- timur vermes

I've been eager to read this book since it was first published. I thought the idea of Adolf Hitler being transported to our modern day was quite interesting. I was however sorely disappointed with the book and got bored with it after a while. The book opened with Hitler waking up in the middle of a field not realizing where he was. He then came across a newspaper vendor who took him in and eventually introduced him to a talent scout. Hitler became an overnight celebrity. It was funny though that the book painted him to be a sensitive and kind man, which couldn't be further from the truth. Hitler in the modern world propagated his ideas of preserving the pureness of the German Volk through a talk show. The book fell quite flat in terms of humor. It was supposed to be funny but the jokes somehow didn't get through. Also, I think one would probably need to read about the history of hitler to appreciate all the references he made to his party members, events, etc.

I couldn't appreciate the cleverness of the book but it did make me want to read Hitler's book.

2.5/5

Robin Williams

Was awaken the other night by the phone and I'm not sure why I just thought of Robin Williams when I laid my head back down to sleep. Kinda odd that I felt like I missed him but how could you miss someone you do not know? I have liked him since his Patch Adam and What Dreams May Come days; he just had this wonderful light about him. I like his quick wit, self-deprecating humor, and he had this child-like wonder face. I'm not sure when things started going downhill for him- the alcoholism, the bad movies... I remember hating One Hour Photo as it was just so un-Robin Williams. 

It's so strange that behind all that humor and seemingly good-naturedness lay such a deep sadness that he had to end his own life. Just awful to think about it... 

Addictions

I wonder if there ever is a good or a bad addiction. I think I'm addicted to travelling, I think I'm addicted to checking my phone, I think in addicted to coffee, I think I'm addicted to reading...

I'd thought I would be done travelling for this year after the Iceland/Norway trip but no! I find myself looking for the next place to go and getting enticed by a million and one things watching travel vlogs. Nepal, Patagonia, Jordan, Peru, Costa Rica, Mexico's arco del tiempo (probably never gonna happen). These are in addition to my previous to-go-list and that hope to go for a long RV trip. 

The world is just too big... If only we live to a healthy 900 years.. That may give us sufficient time to cover some ground. 

Anyway it looks like Nepal is quite set for this year and that's all I can think about the whole day for the past 2 weeks. 

I'm not sure if this preoccupation is the cause of my lapses in memory... I would have blackouts of what I'd done 10 secs ago. Getting something from the fridge and leaving it elsewhere, 10 secs later gg back to the fridge to take said item again and completely not remembering I'd just done that. I'd open the door to let the cat out moments ago, and found myself looking for the cat and thinking of opening the door to let him out.. Seriously... 

The Little Paris Bookshop- Nina George

I was actually looking forward to reading this book (Coz I like the title) and finally found it in the library. Lo and behold, I seriously disliked the book and struggled to finish it. The opening of the book wasn't too bad and I liked the idea of a bookstore on waters. Monsieur Perdu was the owner of the Literary Apothecary- a book pharmacy, who prescribed books to customers based on their emotional state, experiences, likes and dislikes. It reminded me a lot of Chocolat, which I loved and which was similarly set in France. Unfortunately, although the idea of a book pharmacy was refreshing, the prose and the plot and characters in the book just fell flat. Everything seemed so cliche, fictional, and the writing felt a little stiff. Perdu lived in misery for 2 decades after he thought that he was abandoned by his lover, Manon. He only realized his mistake when his new neighbour found Manon's farewell letter to him in an old table he had given her. Finally plucking up the courage to read the "farewell" letter, Perdu realized it wasn't a farewell letter. In the letter Manon revealed to him that she was dying from cancer and wished he could be by her side. She wanted him to go to where she and husband Luc lived in Provence but would understand if he would prefer to leave her. Manon died soon after the writing after the letter. Perdu was guilty and devastated. He realized he was the one who had abandoned his love and not vice versa. On a wimp, he decided to unanchor his barge and sail to Provence. He was soon joined by some eccentric characters and had a few adventures here and there, and after settling down in Sanary, he began his journey to recovery. The story had a happy ending, with Perdu finding love again in his new neighbour, and his two other eccentric companions on the barge finding love as well. 

The story is so corny that I could barely read it. 

1.5/5 

Ashes and dust

Calligraphic (sort-of) version 

Mankind

Reading the news even just the local ones, you feel as if the world is just spiraling downwards. People no longer value lives and are willing to kill others for selfish gains or if they feel injustice at the way they had been treated. 

People no longer feel compassion and empathy towards those with less. It's fine if you are not compassionate but it's not so fine when you take advantage of others' misfortunes and weakness, and trample them.

In the past I never understood how God could abhor his own creation so much to kill everyone in the flood. But I now understand the reason why. History repeats itself and mankind has no saving grace. 

Ashes and dust

The strong takes the weak

And the greed of the rich 

Swallows all that is in its path

Till there is nothing left to feed,

The hungry and the poor.

You know do you not,

All that lies beneath your feet,

All the cities of neon lights 

And gold dust

One day they will be razed to ashes

And all would be but a dusty dream.

Would you weep, would you regret,

All those you had trampled 

To reach that peak of hollowness.

Would you rejoice when the only sound that breaks the silence 

Is your own naked voice.

Would you rejoice when you reap the fruits of your selfish gains

And find them to be only dust

In the palms of your blood-stained hands.