The thoughts that occur to me while I’m running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky as always. The clouds are mere guests in the sky that pass away and vanish, leaving behind the sky. The sky both exists and doesn’t exist. It has substance and at the same time doesn’t. bAnd we merely accept that vast expanse and drink in it.
~ What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, page 17~
I passed by FullyBooked last night and got a copy of What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. I’ve been aching for a new Haruki Murakami book since I heard of the release of his latest published work. I've never been this excited. Not only because it's Murakami but more so because he'll talk about his other passion aside from writing--long distance running.
I called the bookstore last week if they already have it in their shelves and the lady who received my call informed me that they only have two copies left. I got distressed. I should have whizzed my way to the bookstore and get one of that last two copies but I couldn’t. My workload is killing me.
I miss my early days when I would wind away my time at the mall visiting every bookstore I could find or sitting at one particular shop, on that one particualr spot and read there for hours. I miss movie hopping, trying the most outlandish and never-heard films I could watch. Most of all, I miss my “not-so-busy-days” where I would just walk languidly in the middle of a busy and crowded place without looking at the clock.
Strangely, I miss my old self.