Snakes on my head.
After about three weeks of itching and scratching and scarring, I finally hauled my ass to the polyclinic to get something to clear it up. Only to discover to my horror that I’ve got Contact Dermititis, a common type of eczema. I was more concerned about the dark-pigmented broken skin that has resulted from my scratching on the inside of my elbows and behind my knees. I asked the doc hopefully for a quick remedy but to my chagrin, I got myself a salaried doctor who’s high on an “it’s-almost-five-and-I’m-going-on-a-hot-date” adrenalin rush.
Me: “How long will it take for the dark skin to clear?”
Doc: “Oh. Could be months. Heh.”
Me: “Isn’t there anything to use? To make it heal faster?”
Doc: “Yeah. Time. Hahaha.”
I hate doctors with a sense of humour. To make matters worse, when I texted D to moan about my dry, scaly skin, he offered assurance with the reply: “I love you, Medusa.” (Then you’d be dirty old man Poseidon, sucker!) And so, to make myself feel better, I walked into the library next door to get me some comfort brain-food. Within fifteen minutes, I was on my way home with these babies.
1. In Search of a Distant Voice by Taichi Yamada
2. Birthday Stories by Haruki Murakami (Selected and Introduced)
3. Sixty-Nine by Ryu Murakami
4. Asleep by Banana Yoshimoto
It was only after I took this picture at the cafe that I noticed they were all Japanese authors. Oh well. Can’t wait to start on them, but I wonder which one I’ll pick up first…