Ah but the power of boredom is great. Despite the numerous projects due very soon, as well as the entrance exams coming up, there is, still, a longing inside of me, as persistent as the most persistent of all itches. The following instance, i am sure, is an omen from the great gods. Wallowing in my boredom so, a seatmate of mine has told in passing of her act of hiding a great book in the library. The greatest novel of all, she says. The spark in her eyes had thus ignited the spark in my own heart. Alas, i thought, the answer to the void in my soul! After our lessons, i went down to the palatial library, and hunted down the book which she hid. (The manner of which had also slipped out of her tongue, for she was known to slip out a lot of things.) I looked for much whiles, and finally! A great superannuated novel sat on the top shelf, with the spine turned away. (To put on the pretense of a dictionary she said) As i had a lack of height, I called on my friend, the Librarian, who was also vertically challenged. He climbed the shelf and thus handed me the treasure that I so seeked. Last night I had finished eighty-four pages...of one thousand four hundred fifty four. Ah, only one thousand three hundred seventy left. I have brought this upon myself, and surprisingly (and quite oddly, if i say so myself) do not regret it. *bow*
PS. Note that in some parts of the essay, sarcasm may appear.
