There’s no concise way to respond to a book like The Book of Disquiet. It invites wandering and welcomes uncertainty—so this reflection does the same. The Book of Disquiet can feel slippery and confusing at first, especially because it doesn’t follow a traditional narrative. It’s more like a mosaic of moods, thoughts, and philosophical musings…
Some books don’t try to be understood—they ask to be felt, quietly, like grief that never quite finds a voice. Dandelions by Yasunari Kawabata is one of those books. Sparse and unsettling, it unfolds in fragments—half-formed memories, overheard conversations, ambiguous fears. Nothing quite resolves. And yet, within that ambiguity lies a piercing clarity: a meditation…
I’ve never been a fan of the classics. At least, not until recently. Sure, I’ve picked up a Jane Austen here, a Virginia Woolf there—mostly because everyone else was reading them. But I never truly gave them a fair shot. I skimmed, read half-heartedly, and rarely paused to take in the writing or what it…