So… again coming back with my Indiana Jones ranting.
Interior World would be a guilty pleasure, if I believed in guilty pleasures. I am not ashamed of reading this sillily written book. I just enjoy my nostalgic trip to when I was 12, eating crunchy apples straight from my garden and cared only about if next day will be filled with sun.
Now, again is sunny, world spins like crazy and I only miss these juice-apples to be fully happy with my Indiana not-so-much guilty pleasure.
I hang the glitter stars on the sun rays and become a Sun God of my childhood.