I remember the day when randomly picked a book from a bookshelf in our school library, filled out my library card, and went home. I opened the book, started reading it, and for seven days it became my sleeping pill. It's a very small book, but it took me a week to finish it because I kept putting it down. And also most of the time, the book would send me to sleep. I did not appreciate it. I was 13 then.
Four years later, we were required to do a book report specifically on that same book. Since everyone was trying to borrow the book from the library, I decided to have my own copy. It was a quick read as some parts of the book is difficult for me to get through. I finished my book report and still, I did not appreciate it.
On my 3rd year in college, during our recollection while my friends and I were sharing our favorite stuff, a friend told me to read Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. Of course, who would have not remembered it? I read it twice already. I just don't remember where in my room it sits, dusty and untouched.
I found it under the piles of my old school books that I am about to give away. It still looks as good as new albeit dusty. I grabbed it and I started reading it by heart. I read it slowly, tried to understand every sentence, every quote, every situation. I put the book down sometimes, not because I got bored, but because I reflect. I took notes. I wrote my favorite lines. Then I thought about it in a more profound way. For the third time, I finally got the message. Touched. Inspired. It was heartfelt. I absolutely loved it.
Hence, I recommended it to my friends. It was passed from one hand to another. And just yesterday, it was returned to me in this condition,
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| Mitch Albom's Tuesdays with Morrie |

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