the written words of others

in some ways i feel as if i’ve been reading Shantaram for an eternity, as if like Lin I too have been on an ardurous journey to self-enlightenment. the passages, read intermittently, take on episodic flash fiction like qualities. they become stories within chapters within stories.

in the rest stops along the way I have found myself drawn to darker, tragic tales. the sort that wrap around your mind and beckon you to follow the main character into the shadows. stories of hope-laced desperation, of personal sacrifices, all for the journey all for the loved ones left behind.

what I’m reading:  Gregory David Roberts’ Shantaram

what I’ve read recently: Cormac McCarthy’s The Road; Sapphire’s Push; Monica Ali’s Brick Lane; Patti Smith’s Just Kids

now that I’ve read the books I feel more comfortable seeing the movies:  Precious, The Road

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