My title, it means "The Beauty of Doing Nothing"
in Italian
Recently, out of a longing to rekindle an old love that I had probably shoved too far away from me welcomed me in the form of a white paperback book with the simple title "Eat Pray Love"
It wasn't until I lifted it up, turned to the back and read the simple synopsis that something within me awakened to tell me that this thing - book, to be more precise - was something I wanted to have.
Everyone should know that feeling. I have always learned to shy away from it.
An infinite longing that I didn't know I possessed and as I think now, it might have been because dearest nee-san was always unknowingly probing me back into the world of literature.
A world where I was an acquaintance of but still a lot alien to.
This spontaneous feeling - how mother always lectured us about it - had me going doe-eyed, a silent hoping to buy it.
It is pretty unclear even to myself as to why I had wanted so badly to purchase this 4-days-worth-of-food-money book but I knew I really wanted to have it.
This will earn me a good scolding, I somehow just know it.
This love for reading novels, I always knew it never belonged to me. One of my few hobbies sadly didn't include reading. It included drawing, singing with bad vocals and perhaps even 'Bel Far Niente' as some uneventful evening passes. So it was a welcome surprise to know that I got attracted so easily to this book by Elizabeth Gilbert. It was also somewhat non-fiction and I pretty much dislike those kinds of books.
So why did I buy it? Maybe it was because it was written in such a way that it touched my heart yet tickled my funny bone. That is, I finally found out, possible in a book as it is in every other form of media.
A not quite distant memory of a book called 'Anne of Green Gables' appeared in my mind as of late. It was a novel that a close friend, a good friend until now I hope, lent me. It was a wonderful and unimaginable read. The younger me of three years ago didn't quite understand all of it. Anne was too much of a dreamy girl with unthinkable imagination and witty atmosphere and it was all quite a lot for me.
But I knew I love it. I knew I loved every page of it.
Even when the passages were but coils of fancy word that I understood little of.
I do hope one day I will be able to re-read it.
And be able to string the words together into a fanciful garden of beauty imagination just as young Anne had.
Something perhaps close to l'arte d'arrangiarsi?
(the art of making something out of nothing)
I perhaps will leave that matter in the hands of destiny and concentrate on what I should do now that classes are about to start. It is; tomorrow being the most recent.
A few housemates - two in actuality - are going to be taking French this year; a language most would call 'The Language of Romance'. I do hope to barge into their French study time and learn a few words of that language.
This is all in the name of extensive knowledge and not because one of the major characters in Hetalia is pervert French-nii-chan.
I do hope to learn a little more Italian since it is, in contrast to French, 'The Language of Beauty'
which, in accordance to the way it's country arranged the words, is very ironic.
Non è vero?
The way Elizabeth Gilbert describes Italy in all its good and bad, even Sicily, makes me really want to go see the country.
But for artistic reasons as opposed to her more stomach-filling reasons.
A dream is a nice thing to have.
Did everyone read up to here?
All my love and deepest thanks to those who did.
I do wonder if I should continue writing such long and boring entries in the future? Filled with unneeded words and too much thoughts.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Himaruya described Italy and Romano well
*faints*
in Italian
Recently, out of a longing to rekindle an old love that I had probably shoved too far away from me welcomed me in the form of a white paperback book with the simple title "Eat Pray Love"
It wasn't until I lifted it up, turned to the back and read the simple synopsis that something within me awakened to tell me that this thing - book, to be more precise - was something I wanted to have.
Everyone should know that feeling. I have always learned to shy away from it.
An infinite longing that I didn't know I possessed and as I think now, it might have been because dearest nee-san was always unknowingly probing me back into the world of literature.
A world where I was an acquaintance of but still a lot alien to.
This spontaneous feeling - how mother always lectured us about it - had me going doe-eyed, a silent hoping to buy it.
It is pretty unclear even to myself as to why I had wanted so badly to purchase this 4-days-worth-of-food-money book but I knew I really wanted to have it.
This will earn me a good scolding, I somehow just know it.
This love for reading novels, I always knew it never belonged to me. One of my few hobbies sadly didn't include reading. It included drawing, singing with bad vocals and perhaps even 'Bel Far Niente' as some uneventful evening passes. So it was a welcome surprise to know that I got attracted so easily to this book by Elizabeth Gilbert. It was also somewhat non-fiction and I pretty much dislike those kinds of books.
So why did I buy it? Maybe it was because it was written in such a way that it touched my heart yet tickled my funny bone. That is, I finally found out, possible in a book as it is in every other form of media.
A not quite distant memory of a book called 'Anne of Green Gables' appeared in my mind as of late. It was a novel that a close friend, a good friend until now I hope, lent me. It was a wonderful and unimaginable read. The younger me of three years ago didn't quite understand all of it. Anne was too much of a dreamy girl with unthinkable imagination and witty atmosphere and it was all quite a lot for me.
But I knew I love it. I knew I loved every page of it.
Even when the passages were but coils of fancy word that I understood little of.
I do hope one day I will be able to re-read it.
And be able to string the words together into a fanciful garden of beauty imagination just as young Anne had.
Something perhaps close to l'arte d'arrangiarsi?
(the art of making something out of nothing)
I perhaps will leave that matter in the hands of destiny and concentrate on what I should do now that classes are about to start. It is; tomorrow being the most recent.
A few housemates - two in actuality - are going to be taking French this year; a language most would call 'The Language of Romance'. I do hope to barge into their French study time and learn a few words of that language.
This is all in the name of extensive knowledge and not because one of the major characters in Hetalia is pervert French-nii-chan.
I do hope to learn a little more Italian since it is, in contrast to French, 'The Language of Beauty'
which, in accordance to the way it's country arranged the words, is very ironic.
Non è vero?
The way Elizabeth Gilbert describes Italy in all its good and bad, even Sicily, makes me really want to go see the country.
But for artistic reasons as opposed to her more stomach-filling reasons.
A dream is a nice thing to have.
Did everyone read up to here?
All my love and deepest thanks to those who did.
I do wonder if I should continue writing such long and boring entries in the future? Filled with unneeded words and too much thoughts.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Himaruya described Italy and Romano well
*faints*
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