The sultry weather of summer lulls me to dopiness again. I can hardly move on. Inertia has overcome momentum. Half of 2007 has passed and maybe I’ll idle the rest of the year away if I screw my last chance at Sony Pictures.
2004 seems so far away now. My first summer in Beijing – everything was novel and the season wasn’t so obnoxious to me. Last summer, I still had memories. Today, sadly, they are deteriorating like oils on an old painting.
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