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Reading habits
Reading habits
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Prologue
It was four o’clock and the sun has already begun to set. Yet, it was still sunny with a touch of chill in the breeze.
I closed “Emma” and kept it on the nearby table, giving the book a gentle pat on its warned out cover. A sudden smile swept across my face as I remembered it was the fifth time I read it.
The evening sun’s frail light kept oozing through the old window. I took a deep breath and stared out of it and saw how the gentle breeze made tiny ripples on the pond, which lied somberly in the corner of the garden. The sky kept changing its hue dramatically. Every second it grew evermore richer, merging from deep pink to azure and then to a sinister purple.
I felt so peaceful, lying there, in my cozy wooden chair which gently rocked with the ticking of the clock. My eyes were closed in contentment, and so was my mind. Another evening of my life had made its gentle departure.
“Grandma wake up!”
My eyes flew open.
Julie was standing beside me, with two freshly brewed steaming hot cups of coffee. It took me another couple of minutes to recall where I exactly was.
“Don’t worry gran, it’s not the middle of the night. You’re quite safe this time”
I blushed as I remembered how I fell asleep on my chair the evening before, snoring the wits out of me, till midnight.
“Oh, sorry……old habits die hard you know” I told while straightening up on the chair and taking the cup from her.
Julie was already sipping her coffee, sitting in front of me on the terracotta floor. Her low laugh gave the perfect explanation of what my behavior must’ve been when I was suddenly woken up out of the blues.
Suddenly I found both of us laughing. It must’ve been so loud as to drag my poor maid, dear Martha all the way up the old staircase.
“S...
... middle of paper ...
...it my dear”. I leaned back on the old wooden chair while handing over the little brown book to her.
She took it tentatively and wiped off the dust on the front cover to read the title in gold, more clearly.
“The Cookbook Diary?” she read out loud, rather amazed and raised her head to reveal two perfectly sparkling eyes which demanded an explanation.
“Well…..I started. I told you it was my journal before. And if you’d have some time to spare, I could even tell you one or two stories from it.”
Julie’s face was lit up with eagerness and excitement. She looked down for a moment and nodded her head “Grandma….” her lips formed a crooked smile “I’ve got all the time in the world.”
She handed me the book, leaning closer to me.
I smiled with gladness, and took it gently into my hands and opened the first page.
The hands; which tightly clutched it--- didn’t look old anymore.
" What are you reading " I ask while looking over his shoulder. He hands me the old dusty book and I look at it closely. The pages are so old that I 'm scared to touch them.
“I hope your all good at story transitions. It’s two minutes so write quick.” Elizabeth shrugged.
I awoke before the first rays of sunlight had passed through the dew-covered trees to the west today. It had rained the evening before, and the smell of wet leaves and grass was still lingering in the air.
celebrate the deal, and one of the other guests picked her up. A horrified silence fell on the room
When you first open the book you noticed the use of readership. The paratext used on the very first page is who the book belonged to, E. N. Goshorn along with certain family members related to the owner of the book. This page also had a date. I am assuming date was for when the book was received. This page did not seem feel like the same type of paper as rest of the book, it felt like a normal...
It’s a normal day at the Annex, I go to open the bookshelf and Anne was there waiting for me like always.
and put her down to watch some TV. Then the phone rang and Susan and I looked
She nodded her head, went to grab it. While grabbing it, she started telling how she found him dead, and I could see that she was on the verge of tears.
Anyway, instead of me unpacking I decided to start playing with my barbie dolls and Wedding Girl. Sydne saw me playing instead of working so she decided to come over to me. She dashed across the room like a cheetah.
The day started as usual. I got out of bed. My eyes sore from lack of sleep. My feet hit the cold floor, sending a shudder through my spine. It's a shame. In the winter, the weatherman will tell you that tomorrow will be a warm one, but warm for winter in New York is still blisteringly cold (Weather 53).
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was hoping you and your friends could solve that mystery.”
Away from the immense sea, white foams from the waves gather gently onto the golden shore. Now, half of a glowing, radiant light looms across the water 's horizon. The sea turns blood-red and darkness creeps up like a thief. The necklace that once reflected its passionate energy of fury moments ago now resembled a mere costume jewellery. Perhaps the loss of the necklace’s elegance and sophistication was the reason to why it was disregarded. Pity the owner did not see the necklace radiating its splendour at its peak. Anyhow, the nightfall creates a sensation of joy and tranquillity in me. Every sight and sound stimulates a sense of composure and serenity; and the effect is heightened by the absence of the noisy bustle of our daily work, only to be exposed to the never-ending music of the waves, and to breathe the fresh air instead of the stale atmosphere of classrooms. It is not easy to describe the effect of this sight; it can only be strangely deciphered in my mind. It is however, a very tangible and distinct emotion, though its allure really depends upon the reality of the world from a further point of view, away from the definite predictabilities of the world, all in which an instant becomes like a translucent drape which almost consents me to catch a glimpse of a ideal and more breath-taking reality. The worldly desires, expectations, worries, schemes, suddenly cease to exist. It is as though all of
It was a beautiful day like any other with the clear blue sky and the
The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.