One of the things I rue about and probably would most likely to correct is my negligence on the importance of reading particularly during those wee hours I killed by merely existing and not doing anything of becoming. What's ironic is that I do find time to read even in my most tedious times where sheer attention should be more directed to academic stuff rather than leisure. Well I don't find time, I tenaciously MAKE time for it; train rides and precious time where I'm supposedly reviewing.
Reading is as sacred as drawing for me and books are the Holy Grail. Had I been born well-off, I would've invested on these tomes of wisdom. Right now I am very much in love with Haruki Murakami and Chuck Palanhiuk's works. I'm a sucker for twisted alternate realities as if they're a frontier in my plane of imagination waiting to be uncovered.