It's not like I've never done it before, oh yes, I am a master in my reading speed; never mind the thickness of the book. I just get immersed so much that I no longer feel the world around me but the world where I am falling into in the leaves of the pages. I used to read books so quickly, that I run out of reading materials and had to re-read them again. (My dad told me he'd run out of money to keep getting me new books, with reading speed like mine - obviously, that was a joke).
So yeah, I have done it again, but it was such a long time ago that I can't even recall when was the last time I finished reading a book that soon. I have read many great books, definitely, and they do keep me awake with the pages turning and turning but, it has been such a long time that I have let myself get carried away by reading. It is not about the book alone; but rather, the comfort of reading which enveloped me as I was curled up on my bed that it just kept me going until the end of the book in what started off as an initial brief bedtime reading before I drift to sleep.
You see, I was down with a cold and it was bad; been bugging me for the past three days after I got back from my short trip (probably infected by my traveling company). I felt tired half the time, and I am sure you know about the cold symptoms and them cold medicine which just makes me feel so drowsy that I just want to hit the softness of the feathered pillows at every chance I get. As it so happens, I woke up after a short nap and after taking my dinner and medication, I picked up my book (it's an old book which I intend to re-read) and started reading. I read, read, and I read....
It felt like the old times, really, when I was just a little girl; you could always (almost all the time) find my nose buried in a book. I was never without a book; and it is usually a pretty thick one too. I just love books that much. In fact, nothing excites me more than given the time/free pass to read my books and I could finish a book easily in an hour or two. Of course, as I grew older, the time span to finish a book somehow just grew exponentially due to other commitments such as assignments/projects due for submission, work, and social life. In fact, as I am progressing more into my career, I could hardly find time to pick up a book, let alone read (I don't even have much time to sleep actually) and that has even begun to bother me, but that will be another topic. So there, I can't believe I still had it in me that I could still read like I was only three or five...and it delights me so much that I smiled. Not just a tiny smile that formed, but a satisfied wide grin and I silently pat myself on the head. It feels good, like time just stood still in my reading world, and I am so amazed that the smile just came from the heart. It felt like an achievement....like the old times....perhaps the age didn't matter, after all?
Alright, now that's a bit too much to hope for....back to reality...
