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One day, I sat in the back seat of my husband's small electric donkey and looked at the people coming and going, facing the evening wind. I said maybe we should think about whether we can make money besides work. He said, what do you want to do? I thought carefully. It seems that I can't do anything except writing. I can't do anything except writing my own story. I'm such a talker. Such a small wish is delayed again and again because of my procrastination I hope I can write my story on time interested friends can click in.