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　　Finished reading Andrew Morton’s Monica’s Story using my spare time over the past 10 days. The book was an immediate attraction to me when I stumbled on it at the public library not so much because of an interest in an affair between a young woman and a serving U.S. president, but rather because the story was a big feature during the days when I was at college, from 1995 to 99. Therefore reading the book is almost a memorial ritual of my old shool days. What’s more, the girl I brooded on an unrequited feeling to those days was also named Monica. So at dizzy times when I stared at the book, it seemed not Monica Levinsky, but Monica my classmate, who was looking back at me from the cover.
　　Of course, the points of the book include how much a relatively innocent indiviual could suffer from the media frenzy and the over-sprawling state machines, ‘thrown into the political piranha tank’. It also portrays a sharp contrast between a love-sick young woman and a seasoned politician at times of trouble, when a secret affair was finally exposed. The author of the book also spent a great space in illuminating how Monica’s personality had led her to her trauma. But I have very little interest in discussing these important points of the book.
　　The chief pleasure I derive from the book lies in my enriched capability to express my own feelings (in English). For example, I was able to share a few new words and ways of expressions with you in my mini blog. Whenever I feel I have better means to express myself, I experience a sense of elation. Maybe that explains my habit in keeping a diary in English.
　　For me, mastering a foreign language is not so much as a means to make earthly gains, but more importantly, a source of joy and enlightment, a window to a wider world and an ocean of thoughts.