After my final examination, to celebrate: Adam Gopnik's Through the Children's Gate: A Home in New York
Alone in Palawan: Bill Bryson's The Lost Continent: Travels Across Small-Town America
At Work, to kill time: Anton Chekov's Short Stories
During Holy Week: DH Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover (I am realizing only now how terribly inappropriate this is!), James Carse's The Religious Case Against Belief, and Through the Children's Gate continued
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I have a dear friend who, every time she would feel hopelessly lugubrious or frustrated, would scream into the window of her 11th floor apartment at the top of her lungs. When she joins the rest of the world below afterward, she would be all smiles and sunshine again and no one would suspect a thing. When I first met her, I admired and envied her invincibility; when I found out that it was all but an appearance, I admired her even more. Here is a woman who manages to control her emotions long enough to keep everyone out of her throes.
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