Mme. Landlord was ill when I first met her. Foolishly I believed she was too sick to harbor any evil thoughts. I should have remembered that some women have dedicated good many years of their life caring their sick lovers, only to be dumped after their lovers have regained their health, walking away with a new, often younger, girlfriend. In the case of Mme. Landlord, as soon as her cancer was contained, she reverted back to a money mongler who would extort even from her allies. It was not just me, but there was other landlords whom she would extort compensation for her cooked up stories. I am more a fool than a victim to have missed seeing her true color in the early days. I succumbed to the temptation of the role of a virtuous woman befriending a sick lady and fighting evils with her. It is extremely hard to admit but it was my vanity that I lost my future as a graphic novelist. I cannot with this wrist now. I may be able to write some pages slowly, but that is not going to cut it in the professional world. Not that I ever had any chance, but now I have none for sure.
...tonight is the final of Coupe du Monde. I wish to end this post with my respect to the two nations. The French who remain sympathetic to migrants even though they suffer reverse-discrimination in their own land. Cudos for the Croatians who remained modest despite their success during the world cup, keeping to themselves any negative views about other teams. But what I had not expected was that one individual would rise above all the national flags and shine as the epitome of World Cup 2018: Mr. Luka Modric. His pleasant but calm existence is so reassuring. It does not matter which flag wins tonight. His existence and the memory will define the world cup 2018 in years to come. It is the triumph of individual which is so gratifying to me who got crushed by the collective power aka corruption. To be continued.