Last weekend, Feb.4, my wife, Vicky, and I had an overnight stay in Sonia's Garden in the City of Tagaytay. The place is known not only for its organic foods that they are offering their clients but likewise for its verdant surroundings. The pleasant smell of fresh vegetation and the sound of the chirping birds which you cannot find in an urban place were enough invitation for me to hit the bed early and enjoy a much needed rest and sleep as soon as I entered the antiquated-style room that we were to occupy that night. But unfortunately or should I say fortunately, everything was not I expected it to be. Inside the room, (well, much to my juvenile instinct delight) were a number of books, apparently as part of the place's amenities, neatly arranged on top of the side tables of our bed. My voracious reading passion instinctively told me to set aside my early sleeping plan and prepare for a long night ahead. At first, I asked myself if I could consume reading all the books thereat in one night. Surely it was impossible. It requires a superhuman capability or a genius to do that. An averaged book reader like me is definitely incapable of doing what I'm thinking of so I'll just have to make do with whatever limited capacity which I hoped to exhaust that night. This meant selecting just one book for an overnight reading. Needless to say, I selected a book which can more or less suffice my reading satiety for the night. I chose a 550+ page book which story revolves around German characters and a Jew during WWII in one of a secluded town in Germany.. Although it is a war setting, the story is absent of violent encounters but more of a dramatic episodes between the central characters. And so I literally burned the lamp that night to finish the book. Save for the breakfast and lunch break, my wife and I quick sojourn to the perimeter garden of the place, and the regular trip to the CR, my time was wholly spent to the attempt of ending the book. But no matter how I tried to, my comprehension was no longer as expansively responsive the way it used to. I was barely halfway thru the book when it was announced that it was already check-out time. My desire to finish the story was frustratingly left hanging in the air. I thought there was nothing I can do but to pack-up and just leave my unfinished task of getting done with the book just as it was.
Just as we were leaving the room, my eyes cannot help but squinted on the object of my aborted desire temptingly lurking on the side table as if telling me, "hey, come back and take me home with you, for sure I'll be able to satisfy your lust for me". I was provocatively enthused to set aside my "delicadeza" and begun to think awkwardly of possessing the book even just ephemerally. I have been to a lot of hotels and lodging inns in the past but never did I take out or , much less gained possession of anything which were available in the rooms that I occupied either for souvenir collections or personal material benefits. I was placed in a pitiful quandary of having a choice between ethics and temporary desire.
But my optimism was buoyed by the fact that something can be done without really alarming anyone, for the moment. The book was not really irretrievable. I can still find a way to gain possession of the book. The urge was so dire. I thought I can take hold of the book even for a week or two, be done reading it and ask my son who is a frequent diner in Sonia's Garden to return it as soon as he goes back to the place. In that case, the feeling of guilt although not totally obliterated is somewhat lessened. And so I did follow my self-declared advice. I took the book, hid it in my gym bag, and brought it home for my unfinished reading business.
And now I'm just waiting for my son to drop by the house to return the precious book to its rightful place in Tagaytay. I have to admit that there is some degree of guilt in me, but the feeling of great satisfaction of finishing the book outweighs the guilt itself.
By the way., the title of the book written by Markus Zusak is "THE BOOK THIEF".
