My first thought was to say: I'm a pretty normal girl with huge and unlimited imagination. I stumble on an endless road - as the Beatles famous song also says: ‘Across the Universe’.
As soon as I wrote that I realized that these rather odd sentences conflict with the literary quality of my works. I can characterize my product as:
• a meaningless set of letters that look like a novel;
• total brutal;
• a moral infestation.
Reading under the age of 118 is strictly forbidden.
As an excuse, I can only mention my antisocial behaviour has a karmic cause. I am so shameless a creature that I am sure in my previous life I was locked all night in a cage full of hungry wolves. The next day they burned me at a ceremony held in honour of the Kali goddess (at least that which the wolves left from my body). My charred bones were thrown into the Ganges and, as a result, every fish in the entire length of the river died and all the vegetation became extinct.
Well, if after all these things somebody still wants to read my works, he/she can only blame him/herself. I warned everybody beforehand.
There was a huge civil demonstration in a city. Miss Jennifer
Jetkins, the heroine in the story, like many others, protested on
the streets of her home town against government plans to raise
taxes and cut public spending.