Few months ago, I borrowed 'The Reader' by Bernhard Schlink from the University Library but I was not able to finish reading it for some very personal reasons...yesterday, i stumbled into the book again...and I can't resist reading it...it's hunting me with its eternal thoughts like:
"Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily. Because happiness is only real when it lasts forever? Because things always end painfully if they contained pain, conscious or unconscious, all along?"
and there's more...
"From behind, she wrapped me in the towel from head to foot and rubbed me dry. Then she let the towel fall to the floor. I didn't dare move. I could feel her breast against my back and her stomach against my behind. She was naked too. She put her hands around me, one hand on my chest and other on my erection."
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