Also two years ago today (approximately), I notice I was reading Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Coincidentally, just two nights ago, I finished the second book I've read of his, The Book of Laughter and Forgetting. Being was okay, but I loved this one. So beautiful. Hilarious. Touching. Original. Mournful. Insightful. And brilliantly written/translated. An excerpt:

What he always found most interesting about a woman while making love was her face. The movements of the two bodies seemed to be unwinding a large reel of film, projecting on the woman's face, as on a television screen, a captivating movie filled with turmoil, expectations, exposions, pain, cries, emotion, and evil.

Jake moves out at the end of the month, so I guess I'll have to get my own copies if I want to read any more of Kundera's work. And I do.