Just finish reading Marley and Me. As I had predicted, I teared once more at the latter part of book, when marley eventually died. My biggest takeaway the conviction of leading an eventful, (no doubt) challenging life as oppose to one that was simple,peaceful and tranquil. I want to have sweet memories which I could recall in living colours, which I could simply smile at the thought of them, like how the author was able to recount marley in such livid details and zest that I could almost picture him. Maybe I shall get a dog the next time, when I have a yard of my own, so that my dog will not be constrained in an apartment.
It must be rather weird that I predicted that I would tear in a book that I haven't read. Truth to be said, it is of visceral, of a certain twisted lust that I get myself to subjects, contents and materials that I know I will be touched by. Such actions, after much reflecting can only be explained by the act of catharsis, which I am purge of emotions that I sometimes bottle up.Seemingly, the multitude of challenges and details of life has somewhat fatigue my soul to the point where I can't descend beyond a certain degree of mellowness, a reflexive action when too many things are fighting for my attention. Only during a movie, a show or a book will I be able to fully concentrate and absorb the details, to relate my life to when I am receiving that I can do this sacred act of catharsis.
As with a tale, so is life. Being able to immerse oneself in alternative realities is certainly one of the finesse pleasures that life offer.
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