Over banana and ice-cream pratas early this morning, a book was described briefly to me. It's Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a murder mystery about an autistic boy who knows a great deal about maths and very little about human beings. This book stayed lodged in my mind the whole day cos I felt a strange affinity to it. The great deal about maths reminded me of my best friend's fascination with maths and his axiom that "God exists if parallel lines exist". The very little about human beings reminded me of my own oblivion to people, just like the autistic boy needed to show people pictures of different smileys to ascertain their moods.

So though I'm going to hit the book sale tomorrow with my best friend, I dropped by a bookstore this evening to check it out anyway. I guess you can tell I seldom exercise any self-restraint when it comes to buying books and I didn't this time either. Happy.