Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "Love in the time of cholera" is a romantic, extraordinary choleric work by him that you would love to read several times.
The novel is not only a love story of Florentino but also his passionate desire to be with his lover Fermina. As they say true love tests your patience, their lovestory will also demand the same from the reader. At some point the reader feels exhausted of never occuring tryst of the protagonists. Yet from the beginning readers awaits for the moment to happen.
When they finally make a union, the readers are shook by the ending which they absolutely does not expect but is amorously romantic in its own way.
Read "The Chronicles of Death Foretold" by Garcia to have a cusp of magic realism and exotic flavour of what bad luck can actually be in disguise of Santiago- the protagonist!" _______________________________________________
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Yes I know today is lucky 24/6.. let's start morning with #readgood
“As a side note, don’t you think everyone should have to come out? Why is straight the default? Everyone should have to declare one way or another, and it should be this big awkward thing whether you’re straight, gay, bi or whatever.” ❤️
“White shouldn’t be the default any more than straight should be the default. There shouldn’t even be a default.”
-Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda
This novel is so wonderful. I love Simon’s voice and the observations he makes about the world around him, as well as his place in it. He is perhaps the most thoughtful and observant teenaged protagonist I have ever encountered. The novel offers honest insight into some of the hardships LGBTQ2+ kids go through at school and in their home lives, as well as the challenges and struggles they must face in order to be themselves. The novel made me laugh, cry, and at times filled me with rage, but in the end it warmed my heart and left me feeling hopeful. 💚
The movie adaptation Love, Simon was good, but I disliked how conniving and decietful they made Simon’s character, although I do realize the difficulties that come when trying to translate a book to the big screen.
Has anyone else read this novel? What did you think?
#readtosucceed #ilikebigbooks #elaeducation #socialstudies #socialjusticeeducation #teachersfollowteachers #teacherscollaborating #blackeducator #reading #readingteacher #blackteachers #blackteachersmatter #readgoodbooks #readgood #bookstagram
She was the Breeze of the blessings. I never thought she was anything less than a powerful girl who was trying hard to keep others happy.
I remember her being betrayed by friends and how all they meant was to use her in a healthy and non healthy way.
And then she landed in a Job. Real Time, full round the clock, number crunching game.
As we were working on our not so great projects given by our office, she would go again and again about how the life was meant to be a true experience of adventure and silly stories rather than studying and getting a stupid ass job.
Once, she told me she wanted to see mountains. She told me how talking to them helps her in a weirdly satisfying manner. The Breeze with smell of Clouds and purity was best thing she ever experienced.
How it reminded her that in order to be pure and unstained, she needs to be away from people who are mere example of dirt and nothing else.
How watching those mountains made her feel that she can reason with them, why they are standing there and not moving towards anything. How all she prayed for was enough courage and heart that nothing makes her doubt her will to be still.
And one day, when she was vulnerable to the core, with tears rolling down the cheeks and laptop throw away from the bed. When she was staring at the photo suspensed from fairy light in her room, she leaned on my shoulder and asked if I wanted to take her to the Mountains and beyond.
Next morning, she was punching numbers in those spreadsheets, designing business expansion models and testing base line projection algorithm.
The idea of escape was gone. The hallucinations of happiness was replaced by will to thrive and survive till next payday.
As I kissed her goodbye in her office, I knew, sometimes, what pulls us towards them, keeps us hooked.
In a way we are slave of our lifestyle. 🔗
She called me back. After I had changed back from my crisp formal shirts and shiny leather shoes.
She wanted me to be there with her. I had decided not to bail on people. Not until enough people have bailed on me.
I changed into a pair of comfortable trousers and Tees and hailed a cab, ran back to her, burning my one day salary in cab fare only.
And when I reached there, she was sleeping there, like a baby. She was curled up like a baby girl. She was lean and tiny and when I woke her up, she couldn't believe that I actually came.
I helped in cooking. We had dinner. Me and her other two friends. And then she went back to sleep. She slept beside me, carefree and careless. Her hair smelling like her shampoo, and her skeleton knocking against my own. She hugged me in her sleep. I hugged her back.
Later on, when sun came back, infused my alcohol and insomnia , my sleep left me early. I woke up, prepared tea, just the way she liked. With some ginger and cardamom. I woke her up and offered her tea. The tea that's gonna make her friends jealous of all the best this world had to offer to them. She had it, in her half sleep, without any doubt, without any hesitation.
Then she called me up, reminded me that there was no office for today. That she needed me to hug back. I always doubted that I am someone who can be hugged. But she did. She hugged me. I swept off her hair from her face. Her calm peaceful face reminded of everything that I had to protect about her. Why I ran towards her? Why I felt like she should be happy, whatever happens? Why I will let her know all the tricks up the sleeve so that no one can play with her, the way I play with others?
And in between all these, she reached out for my hand, entangled her fingers with mine, embraced my face with her arms, kissed my forehead and whispered, "Go back to sleep, it's okay." And now, seven months down the line, I wonder, what went wrong.
What came in between? What made me angry? What made her cry? What made me feel that she was worth the punishment?
You make your friends suffer, because you feel like you own them. But maybe, they suffer, because they believe that you will save them when they are suffering.
Reading a book a day keeps the stress away — seriously. Books are a form of entertainment, but they're also more beneficial in ways that you may not have ever imagined. If you picked up a habit of reading as a youngster and still read like Rory Gilmore to this day, then you probably already know this to be true: reading can boost your mental health — and that's not just my opinion; there are studies and research that backs it up. According to a study done by the University of Sussex, reading can reduce stress levels by 68 percent. Stress levels and heart rates were monitored while trying out a variety of relaxing methods, such as listening to music, going for a walk, and having a cup of tea — but reading was the strongest method in helping the brain and body relax. So next time you come home from a long, stressful day at work, pick up a book and get lost in it for a few hours.#book #booklover #bookstagram #bookworm #bookshelf #bookshelfdecor #bookloving #bookquotes #bookquoteoftheday #cofee
☕#mentalhealthawareness #exahleit #stress #readgood #reqdgoodbokks
Charred, stained, uneven rooftop was her favourite place in her two bedroom apartment. Sitting there, looking over the city, she dragged the last puff, swallowed the smoke down with beer straight from the cold can. She saw the city metro rolling away. Occasionally barking dogs made her believe she was not awake alone.
She lost track of time there, She was exhausted, but the peace she felt has always been extraordinarily satisfying. She let her mind recede, watching the clouds race against the wind. She too picked up the pace and started thinking about all the good things that were coming to an end and all the bad things she has to strong arm. Her attention was taken away by mild beats of ‘Strangers’ oozing out of earphones, just hanging around her neck reminding her how life is different than movies.
Bored she tapped out another cigarette from the pack. Her face was a picture of pain, and her eyes, a cyclone of emotions. She was thinking about the revised definition of words in her life. How forever meant One Year and seven months. How Friendship broke over few egoistic issues. How Love needs to be settled with bond paper. And Sex and Money defines the intensity of Love. Why things can’t be left behind and broken can’t be fixed. Why don’t people come with warranty cards? wouldn’t it be easy if we could read minds instead of words?
Bolting upright she stared blindly at the moon with sleep shadowed eyes, with the muffled scream of the heart wrenching that kept her awake. She reaches up to scrub the sleep from her eyes and finds them moist, she explores her face then, finding trails of wetness that lead from her eyes and across her cheeks, over her lips even, those lips part and she touches her tongue to one finger and tastes the bitter salt of tears of sorrow.
She shoved the cigarette butt in flower pot, tossed the beer can far away in darkness and took out the phone to capture the painfully lonely lunar hue.
Fifteen minutes later, two sleeping pills popped, staring in darkness and listening to the humming of the air conditioner, she uploaded the Photo on social networking site and Captioned it, “Weep, Weep, Weep. And the Moon Shall Remember” !!
It's technically a Fail Safe. A chain kind of a chain because we cannot actually keep you chained. That would be way too cruel on humanitarian grounds.
It's kind of a undeclared claim, making you believe that you are not supposed to do or say, obviously duly announced, all those things what you say or do to me.
You are not supposed to eat,sleep, party etc etc without my consent.
We have made you believe that you are supposed to be loyal, stylish, sexy and caring in order to massage our ego and few other things.
It was validated by few other people who made you forget that you were born alone and you will die alone, and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of this to make you forget those facts.
We have established it as a fact, when it comes as a lightning bolt, where you can't eat, work or sleep and you Just run off and get married.
What You Call Love was Invented by Guys Like Me.
-© excerpt from AMC Mad Men. -
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An Acceptable Time for Tulips on Books 💐 📚