February 23, 2009
a separate piece
How do you do? I'm Barney.
Yes, hmm? What's that you say? You like my scarf? Why, thank you. (blushes furiously)
This is Barney. Besides his talent for wearing scarves, he can also read a book all the way from the other end of the sofa. It doesn't even have to be open. That's a testament to how much of a bookworm he is -- those paws would never dream of harming the ever-precious spine of a book.
Ah, if only I had possessed Barney's reading powers as a kid (or even now). My sister gave me her precious copy of Matilda on the condition that I would promise to keep the spine in tact. She taught me how to read it by gingerly tilting it from side to side instead of savagely creasing the spine like the bookish barbarian I was. I had to work hard to soak up every juicy word, for I scarcely dared to open that little yellow book wider than what was absolutely necessary to read every lovely word. No pain, no gain.