My job requires me to read. This should be a pleasurable experience. But its my job. It's my work. Reading is fun no longer applies. Activities are only fun when you have the luxury to do as and when you feel like it. At the end of the day, I'm expected to deliver something out of it. To conduct booktalking, to write book reviews within a given period of time. I cannot afford to read at my own pace, I cannot mince the words and appreciate the delivery of their fantastic stories.

There is a clear distinction between interest and work. I never like to mingle the two together. It can never be. Some people can. My deepest and sincere reverence to them. When interest become work, it is no longer the same. I cannot understand the devotion and passion people have for their jobs. It seems work is all they have and all to life. I never will.

At this point of time, the dream manifests itself again and tempts me once more. I shall have a piece of land, in a quaint nice peaceful outskirts of chengdu, to lead a hard to resist idyllic life. I shall plant my crops and tea and be self-sufficient.

At times, I will invite my friends over for some tea. We can drink tea for the whole day, and the society forgets our existence. Then, when I feel like it, I shall leave my hut and travel to see the four great mountains of sichuan.

After that, I will travel further to Lu Shan and see if I can discover the true form of Lu Shan. For a poet once said that Lu Shan grandness is surreal and it mystifies itself by concealing its true nature. Perhaps I might gain some kind of enlightening of my own and write another poem which no one will hear of once i compose it. Alas, I wish the society forgets about me and I too forget about the human society.