The Da Vinci victim: obsessed art expert took deadly overdose. This headline from today's issue of The Daily Mail left me distressed for a few seconds. I sat in my stool motionless, my eyes transfixed on the paper and my mind was flooded by memories from the night I finished reading Dan Brown's best seller almost three years ago.
I read the book non-stop on my journey from Manila to Sablayan in Occ. Mindoro. To say that the experience was gripping is an understatement. I was at the edge of my seat and it wasn't because of the rough roads of Mindoro. I don't write reviews because I'm just not good at them. No, make that because I can't write, period. My suggestion is for you to read it yourself so you can have an idea what I'm talking about. To sum it all up, the book left my mind racing.
There were too many questions. And the questions, instead of yielding answers, produced more questions. I was raised by pretty religous parents. All my life I went to Catholic schools. I even went to the mother of Catholic schools - the Royal and Pontifical, The Catholic University of the Philippines, University of Santo Tomas - to get my bachelor's degree. Everything that I believed was being challenged. My faith was under attack. Okay, I'm exxagerating. But it sure felt that way. I know it's only fiction. But my God was I shaken! As soon as I reached my parents' house, I went looking for the family's old Last Supper to scrutinise the painting. I also grabbed an encyclopedium and examined the other works of Da Vinci. All these happened before I even kissed my mother's hand; she telling me later on to mind my manners.
Anyway, I couldn't sleep that night. The information that I learned from the book made me feel privy to something dangerous, thus it should be kept a secret. I got really paranoid. Whenever I close my eyes, I saw hooded figures coming at me. I was shit scared! I remembered texting my cousin Lala (she lent me the book) and Sir Vic, telling them about my paranoia. Both of them humored me with their replies. I can't recall how I finally slept. But it was a long and peaceful slumber, I'm sure of that.
I've always known that my imagination is a bit mad. But today I just couldn't stop asking myself, was it really just my imagination?