The only time when I feel better is when I was doing sports. My flu has gotten worse and now my head feels heavier than my whole body and a timebomb waiting to explode. To top it all nicely, I'm starting to cough badly. SiGh!
I'm done with Nineteen Minutes. I don't know what it is with Picoult, her novel never end with full closure for her readers. I guess she's a realist that one don't get something without having other thing taken away from them. There we similarities with Nineteen Minutes and The Pact, how the character's emotions are intertwined. Mothers caught between love and the facts. Fathers distracting themselves indulging themselves in works. So what's new?
Will read one of Coelho's after this. Eleven Minutes maybe.
When it's given why having doubts taking it?
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Under The Weather
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