super fudge
I am a wide reader. My parents taught me to be one. My sister Claire introduced me to all kinds of literature when I was in elementary staring from fantasy stories to really morbid ones by Anne Rice. Before I started highs school, I had already read Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles.
The best place for me to wait for somebody in the mall is the book sale portion where I could glance at books at 35 pesos and fight the urge of buying one. When I have the urge to buy one, all I could think of was the idea that probably there’s a copy of this book at home because I live in a home where book lovers also live. In fact, I live in a house where a book worm (literary) live. In fact, he sleeps with books on his bed and on his walls.
Just recently, maybe fours hours ago, I happen to stroll around the book sale again and saw “Superfudge” in one of the corners. This made me nostalgic. I had read superfudege when I was maybe in grade three. I missed the book. I wanted to buy it <it cost 35 pesos> and put I it in a frame.
Superfudge is my childhood. I read the story twice or thrice but never really get to understand it. The idea of reading a book was the only thing that made me read more and more books as I can even though I never really understood it.
When I was in grade five, I had read almost all my sister Claire’s book collection in the summer. I did not care if it was for an adult or for a new born baby or what so ever. I just wanted to read because I wanted to count the books that I read and be proud of being a reader.
Superfudge made me recall that attitude. It was just so funny I wanted to be a kid again and capture things without deciphering.
Maybe it would be easier that way than have all the knowledge and still unhappy….
