the perils of

I just finished reading Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood . I loved it. I'm not about to write a review of it, but I just wanted to write for the sake of releasing these weird feelings of... I don't even know. Melancholy? Shock? Joy? A little back story: I've been searching for a cheap copy of the book for some years now. It goes for around P600 (if I'm not mistaken) at Fully Booked (and presumably, in all the other commercial bookstores). It only occurred to me last week that I could borrow it from the Rizal Library. Which I did. On Friday morning I found myself by my lonesome, what with all my friends at immersion and all (yeah, the few friends I had just had to go on immersion on the same day). It was the perfect time to get started on Norwegian Wood, but I had just finished Abundance of Katherines the night before and I didn't want to move on just yet. (I like to take breaks in between books to let the first one soak into my mind. It's sort of like

(click to play) It was a hot afternoon (a rare occurrence this time of year) when we found ourselves somewhere along Jasmine Street. Sweating in the quaint home of a nice lady named Baby, we waited until the last of our five respondents had left to pack up our things and leave. Our next destination would be some area along Saint Vincent street that Kuya Fernan, a barangay worker who was helping us with our thesis, had picked out himself. The five of us, including Kuya Fernan himself, piled into Rap's car. Rap backed up the car as we prepared to exit onto San Simon. As the tail of the car neared a wall, it let out a series of high-pitched beeps. "Ano yan?" inquired Kuya Fernan. "Wala yan, Kuya," we assured him. "Ah, akala ko yung katulad ng LRT. Na-overload." We laughed. Cheryl added, "Parang nasa elevator lang din." Only half an hour later, we were in a house along Saint Vincent street, scrambling to assist the nice people who had