Time waits for no man

I bought four books over the weekend, and by pure coincidence two of them revolved around time. I had grabbed the Mitch Albom one because I enjoy reading his books and this is one that I don’t own yet. The hardback one was wrapped in plastic and the summary was in its inner sleeve – I took it being completely oblivious about the plot. I just have this affinity for contemporary East Asian fiction novels.

It’s also weird that time is something that I’ve thought about a lot, and have had feelings revolved around it lately.

Life, universe. It listens.

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A girl who reads

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life.

Beautiful.

By Neil Sargisian https://plus.google.com/115694824859958653129/posts/KPncnrEN3x7