reading and writing are the two things that (unsurprisingly) are becoming my new anchors in this foreign environment. i am enjoying 'the bastard of istanbul' by elif shafak, which i picked up as a happy coincidence at the second hand bookstore before flying. i had first come across the book early this year when i returned from my three month exile, and while it intrigued me, i ended up choosing a far more down to earth novel. seeing it at the bookstore now, before my new journey, i knew i had to take it with me! (an aside: i don't frequent the second hand bookstore much, but whenever i'm there, i'm always happy with my finds :)
i shall perhaps write a separate post on shafak's novel, but for now i just want to note that the characters and the history engage me, and not only fuel my desire to read more, but to write. this ties in to my increased journalling, as a way to not just record this crazy and momentous time, but also to make sense of things, to feel a semblance of control.
i want to write myself a cocoon, create a world where there are clear distinctions between grey, white and black, where princesses really are rescued by their princes, where the wave of a fairy godmother's wand is enough to ensure glamour and glitter and beauty, where happiness and affection remain unmarked by toil, heat and pressure. surely i can write my way to a new life, complete with the characters and attributes i desire?!