For the past two years, I have been scavenging for Thomas Keneally’s Schindler’s List. Why I fell in love with stories of the second world war, I’ll blog about at a different time. It’s much too long to for this entry and probably too boring to tell all at once.
So back to my story.
I made my usual weekly trip to a second-hand (or slightly used and less pricey) book shop at a nearby mall. Usually, I’d spend the entire afternoon going through their new inventory and sorting out the books I wanna buy and would hide (Yup, hide! Sorry guys, I’m weak so I hide books I cannot afford.) the ones I’ll buy the week after. That week I bought a couple full-priced Nicholas Sparks books meaning I can’t buy anymore. Sadly, that same week I found a lone copy of Schindler’s List. Just my luck right? I decided to bury it deep in the shelf behind a tall stack of books and buy it the following day. The next day, it was not there anymore. No!
A few months later, I was having lunch with a good friend (one of my closest) and I started talking about how frustrating it is that we were talking about the world war during debates and I haven’t read the Schindler’s list yet. I told him all about the book I hid and how it disappeared so quickly. Then he asked, “When was this?”. When I answered, he started laughing and then he finally told me that he was the one who found the book and his friend bought it. Seriously?
The happy ending is I finally have my own copy. Dad bought it for me this morning and I am now just resting from having read it the whole day. Yey! After all that, I finally got my copy.