Of making books, there is no end.

Since the last time I wrote about not having any more books, I've realised two other things.

I was under the impression that ever since being back, my love and habit for reading had dwindled. This was because a couple of the books I was reading were left unfinished when I moved to Singapore - and worse still, I had no desire to crack into them again, nevermind that they were written by notable authors whose books I thoroughly enjoy traveling the world through previously.

Given this strange state, I also stopped buying books because of my endless list of 'books to read'. But I've come to see I still love reading. Phew! This was a real dilemma as I went through Teachers' College: How could I teach reading and literature if I stopped reading!

I didn't so much stop liking reading as I did find myself in a new phase of life in which there seemed to be no books that related. Then there was a certain denial that I may no longer qualify as 'inter-cultural'. (One of my favourite genres, not only because of the couch-potato travelling but because I finding myself in there and empathizing with the characters.)

Yet, somehow, the books stealthily managed to find their way back into my life. Huzzah! And thank goodness! Despite whatever phase I may find myself in, the intercultural books still resonate deeply with me. I imagine this is because that is where my heart lies.

I've since read two books and also added three books to my bedside table. I visited the bookstore but still found myself incredibly fussy about the type of books I want to read. But, we all must be discerning since of making books, there is no end.