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I went to a mall on a Saturday afternoon, during my rest day, to buy groceries and toiletries. As I walk along, I went inside the National Bookstore and saw this book and got interested in it.

It is a documentary of real life stories about crimes of passionate nature. It tells different stories of love, frustration and anger that ends in turmoils of hot blood and tears. I bought the book without any doubt and hurried home to start reading it.

As I read the first story, I sympathized to the sentiments of the desperate woman who killed her man because of hopeless and undrawn love that turned to madness. It was like a narration of the whole story, to the end of the case trial, up to the decision made by the body of law. Interest in this kind of chronicles is not plainly because of curiousity and sympathy but of cognizance and admonition to the hasty and foreseeable events of the real world. Stories as such enlighten our minds and ego to situations that often only the people involved knows and had the chance to experience.

I am into stories like this because I am engrossed to real life events and sympathize to the people who were deprived and in jeopardy. Indulging one’s self into learning and experiencing situations as this is not senseless or bizarre but it is simply being realistic and sensible.

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