I totally judged the book by its cover and cute graphic-filled pages and for some reason, just dismissed it and got on with the busyness of my daily life. It seemed, brochure-y.
Until recently, a few things happened which made me turn to read again. My sleep quality has, for one reason or ten, took a sharp decline which in turn took its toll on my health. It’s definitely stress-related and I had to make the painful admission to a concerned friend (also named Rachel, in case you were curious), that brainlessly watching sitcoms to fill the silence at home is probably too much stimulation for a good night’s sleep. Exercise, slowing down, relaxing routines, lavender, books. We immediately decided on these obvious answers I haven’t had the discipline for.
Then, just a few nights ago, on a Friday night when my colleagues (Crystal and Oscar, in case you were curious) and I were all feeling pretty shitty because of whatever is going around this disgusting weather in Hong Kong, we dragged ourselves out to dinner and some shopping. Then and there, I found myself in Eslite (rarely ever shop there as I rarely ever manage to find English books with the minimal effort I was willing to invest) picking up all sorts of bookings, sitting there on the floor wanting to read more (without spending a buck, ideally).