wicky little laughter.wacky old trick

I am snugging under the covers again, reading a novel and typing this entry with the lights off. This thought amuses me. It was under this familiar dim light and this same atmosphere that I have finished flipping through books on the entire bookshelf. This little secret shared with my uncle. It was an unspoken solidarity between us, recalling his act of disobedience when we were little. It makes me want to laugh. Those crazy hours we spent for books, in the name of suspense-quenching and those deprived-of-sleep-looking eyes, tears of tiredness suppressed back in a shrug and pressing on, turning page faster than a toaster popping up a bread. It was not like I am a great Stephen King fan and was making an effort to create a scary atmosphere while his story pestered me with horrifying thoughts. No, I am more of a play-safe-with-after-effects reader. Severe hushing and maternal responsibilty to keep a child in bed before midnight really are cold blankies for avid readers. I was an expert. Torch stashed under my bed, a blankie and comforter-double shielding for the light, all set up for the whole-night-read down to infinitesimal details. The thrill, the excitement...it was all too familiar. Camouflage in the dark, we call it. This is the novel I've just finished reading.
Another heart-crushing story by Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns, the disillusionment centered around abused women and hateable blood-thirst beast-like husband. Similar with the previous novel, Kite Runner, it renders one in deep-rooted sorrow and empathy. You can't really cry at the part where they execute the character with the most brutal way but there is a hand squeezing and gripping your heart. Totally stunning and beautifully woven.