In the mood. Work, Books

Not gonna talk about work, not gonna...
Ok, a little.
The office was officially closed today, officiously open for those who didn't have anything better to do. So I went. I had better to do, but heck, one work day with no colleagues, no phone calls, no mail, no interruption. Too precious to lose. I'll cancel my RTT on Wednesday so I can take it another time.
I ain't workin for free. 7:45AM to 6:50PM, good day, productive, calm. Enjoyable.
And no "I'm-not-a-retard-because-I-have-an-engineering-degree-but-I-sure-look-like-a-slow-guy" colleague 'm supposed to train. Sweet!

I've spent the last months reading, having two books in my bag, either because I forgot to remove the one I just finished or because I already had chosen the next one and kept it ready in case I finished the current one during the bus ride.
In no specific order:
Brisingr by Christopher Paolini,
World Without End by Ken Follet
Galactic Pot-Healer by Philip K Dick
Red Mars by Kim Stanley Robinson
La Joueuse d'Echecs de Bertina Henrichs
La Petite Fille de Monsieur Linh de Philippe Claudel
Riverdream by George R.R. Martin
The Coroner's Lunch by Colin Cotterill
Ever Since Darwin by S. J. Gould
Bonjour Tristesse by Françoise Sagan
La Fin des Temps par Barjavel
labyrinth by Kate Mosse
Le Coup de Grace par Marguerite Yourcenar

I'm currently in Ulysse From Bagdad by Eric Emmanuel Schmitt. It moves me, like many of the previous ones did.
I've started and erased half a dozen sentences already. It's quite hard to comment on this book. A work of fiction. the story of a young bright man named Saad Saad, in Iraq, during the current conflict. Fiction, right. His family decimated by suicide bombers, scared foreign soldiers, more bombs, sickness. The only fiction here is the names and the specific sequence of events, but it feels too close to home to feel like fiction. As those many previous ones I've recently finished, I'll not be quite the same after this one. Still me, not different, but not quite the same.
And I've got probably ten more books lying around when I'm done. All the way from a pair of kids books (even an illustrated story for a future three-year-old child) to more science-fiction, Victor Hugo, Descartes and a possible treasure in the form of an erotic novel by a syrian poetess. How exquisite.

I've always loved to read, and spending more than one hour every day waiting for or riding a bus has given me plenty of time to return to this favourite pasttime of mine.