Addicted

It’s not alcohol –
it doesn’t depress me.
It’s not weed –
it doesn’t oppress me.

It’s no narcotics,
It’s nicotine-free,
Just pure antibiotics,
that reeks only glee.

I feel it — the joy,
and a triumphant smile,
like winning a toy,
unknowing all the while.

I’m ready to disclose –
the secrets unbound,
for never will I close.
Words heal every wound.

By the River Piedra

by the river piedra

I’ve been having a bad last year, not finishing the books I started. So this time, I promised to get in a lot of reading as possible.

I had bought a boxed set of Paulo Coelho’s books, and after The Alchemist and The Witch of Portobello (which I loved), I opened this one with the same interest.

I was a bit disappointed. People had warned me about the author’s excessive reference to religion, but not having experienced it much in other books I had read, I went into this one innocent.

I won’t deny, there were some great parts where I could relate to the story and to the spiritual message. But by the time I finished the book, I was left only with the author’s strong religious beliefs. I even had the feeling he had tried to force his belief into the book.

Nevertheless, it was an easy read, and I liked the way the author differentiated the love for god and the love for people.

Overall, I’m not sure if I liked the book enough to recommend it to anyone. Would I read it again? I don’t think so.

I reviewed this book on Goodreads.

The Quotable

Sylvia Plath.

There’s something about her, about her writing, about the way she manipulates words that attracts me again and again.

I can never get enough of her writing. There’s something different about her, something that reaches deep into the soul and taps at feelings you didn’t know you had.

Something that grabs at your ego and rattles it so hard that it goes all fuzzy and numb for a while.

There’s something in her writing that speaks to all; to the mischievous rebel, to the wounded heart, and to reincarnated feelings.

But of all her quotable words, for me, there’s one that speaks loudest. The one that rings in my ear, reverberates in my hallow ribcage, and my head, giving me some high.

Sylvia Plath - quote