After I came back from London I started to read a book that's been sitting in my top shelf for almost a year now, I am a Cat by Natsume Sōseki. I meant to read it a hundred times already, but I was never in the right mood. After I got to know Chunky I gave it a shot, but now I'm stuck in the second chapter. Whenever I regrab it, I find myself reading without reading it. My eyes are following the lines, but my mind's somewhere else, wandering through the labyrinth of thoughts inside my head.
For the past few days I barely left the house and somehow hit a foul mood. I guess there are certain things that piss me off, not too much I can do there. Yesterday the madness came to an end and today I decided to go out, be active and participate in life. First thing I did was miss my train. I wasn't exactly happy about it, but since I had no place to be I guess it was no big deal, either. Also half an hour is a good amount of minutes to grab a coffee and stroll around the bookstore. It felt good to be out.
I felt like reading something light, and something in German. I've got a translation to do, it's into German, and I find it helpful to be reading something in German as well. I bought a book by a French author called Francois Lelord. Since my French isn't good enough to read the original I don't feel too bad reading the translation. Also I have another book by Lelord and I like having more than one book by the same author that look alike standing next to each other in the bookshelf. Three make a set, so I have to get another one soon.
A friendly blind grandpa sat in front of me in the train. He had a yellow bracelet and a blindman's stick, that's how I knew he had trouble seeing. He asked me a few times what station we were at and we chatted a little. When he got off in Duisdorf we said goodbye, but stupid as I am I said 'See you again'. I felt terrible and was super embarrased, I think I made a crunched face, but he just smiled. That's how I knew he was friendly. Soon after that my train arrived and I started walking.
It's another grey day today, windy too, but the temperature's alright, good for a walk. I went to the bank and payed some cash into my account, I wonder what the proper english word for that is, maybe something like inwithdrawal, or diswithdrawal. Anyways, after that I strolled around the streets a bit and ended up in a coffee shop to grab a bite. I got something to drink, but no good seat: the cushions were pretty good, but the lighting was shit. And it was generally too crowded, but it was good enough to read a little.
I just checked, and I have forty-three books at home that I've bought but not read yet. Twenty-three English ones, eleven in Korean, eight German books and one in French. Actually, I borrowed L'etranger from a friend named Charline, she's French, I have to give that back, so it's actually forty-two. Fourty-two unread books and I just spent eighteen Euros on a new book today. How am I ever going to save any money? Stupid shelf-thinking.
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