My personal show time has come again. (Divers, don’t get jealous, it’s your fault for staying silent.)
The end of the world comes with good news and bad news. The good news is that the doomsday prophecy apparently didn't come true; the bad news is that I waited in front of the bank all afternoon and didn't get a single penny (my plan to experience the thrill of holding a handful of hundred-dollar bills before dying was ruined).
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Also, asking for a novel, the urgent feeling is like a beautiful woman lying on your bed shouting 'I want… ah ah ah.' 'I want… I want… I want a novel!' Press to buy, damn busy butterfly.
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