My mother-in-law is a lazy person. Although her heart is full of colorful colors, she always has trouble finishing her writing. . . So the pieces of debris became unconscious debris like a dream. . .
Even if it is something like this, I still want to at least record it. . .
So I opened this thing. . . The chosen genre is essay, but in fact it is all-encompassing. . . Some of them may have been originally thought to be novels, but in fact they lack the strength of novels. . .
It can only be said that these things are purely the helpless mother-in-law who sings and wanders at will on the ruins where the debris is piled up. . .