Endless

Patience pays off. I have never been a fan, but at the greatest moments in my life I seem to have the natural capability to extend a sympathizing thought for it. At any rate, it landed me in the successful uncovering of two books of the Enderverse: Speaker for the Dead and Ender's Shadow. Provided, I underwent a continental toil of scouring around bookstores around the metro for it only to lead me to the inescapably seductive Booksale. The particular surplus shop of books gives light to the imaginative and obsessive side of me. In the peak of my existence and interest, I sniff and comb through each and every book that passes through my fingers. Nothing goes unnoticed by my myopic, perennially exhausted eyes. The miraculous moment happened at the most unexpected moment; while half-heartedly checking . I was perusing books in a leisurely manner, at a point where I'm mentally half resigned to an Ender-less month, when I shifted a stack and voila, Speaker for the Dead was staring straight back at me. Gasping has never been more vindicated. Catching Ender's Shadow, a shelf below the pot of gold was a consolation in advance. Unearthing two books in one night prompted me to turn the bookstore upside down. Frank Herbert, John Grisham, Tami Hoag kept staring back at me. Herbert, I know in the near future, I shall haunt your works in the same way I've been contemplating life in congruence with finding Enderverse books. But for now, I shall drift by Hard-boiled Wonderland with the occasional nips with Greek Mythology before I settle for my grand prize.