After a long, unplanned hiatus from fiction-reading, I felt somewhat a relief finishing Matthew Reilley's The Six Sacred Stones in a span of 12 hours. It was like 2006 again, when I read for pleasure instead of the intense pressure of examinations. Granted the method of my reading didn't really improve my vocabulary nor grammar as I was trying to go through the book as fast as the adrenaline rush the book told of to get to the ending and Reilley's use of the word 'literally' is a tad annoying (subject to my opinion) but still, reading books gives me a kind of satisfaction I don't get from staring at LED screen of my television. I missed this hobby of mine very much; like a dear old friend whom I have neglected to contact.

If only my laptop isn't such a temptress. Sigh.