Dayle Pereira

I recall being an avid reader when I was growing up. Enid Blyton came to my rescue during flu season and my Roald Dahl copies are dog-eared from the numerous summers I leafed through them. Somewhere down the line, I fell out of it. I can't pinpoint exactly what happened; all I know is reading took a hit once I hit adulthood. Since then, I've only picked up a book a handful of times. Generally it was few months prior to the release of its movie version to be fully prepared of what I'd see on screen. That changed in 2020. During the initial weeks of isolating at home during the COVID-19 quarantine, I followed the pattern majority of the world did. I decluttered my closet. I baked bread. I Marie Kondo-ed my house. Then I chanced on my Kindle which was packed with unread books and sitting quietly in a corner, untouched. So I said, why not?
That's where it all began. Soon enough I polished down the first book I started. It was a crime thriller and I was so taken by the surp…