Black Volcanic Mud Mask

Many years later, I am also old. Dragging his broken body, he lay quietly in the garbage in the garbage dump, enjoying his retirement life. But I was too bored and could only play by myself. So, I racked my brains and recalled the past over and over again without getting tired of it. In those long memories, I was surprised to find that I missed the fear of being dominated by a shrew that appeared on time every day according to the rhythm of three meals. (Quality work of modernism, stream of consciousness, and broken mouth technical skills.) (The plot is unusually erratic.) (Please read this book within your ability.)