The author of this book is not a writer.
This book is not a novel.
In essence, there is no real plot, it's difficult to find a protagonist, and the underlying thread of the writing is almost intangible, ethereal. All of the above is not a criticism, but rather the strength of the writing, which fell into my hands by mistake, which I probably would never have bought.
Yet, I feel compelled to recommend it to those who want lightness, a quick diversion, to those who wish to think and let their minds run with the hints suggested between the lines, by the descriptions of corners of paradise, probably created just for dreaming.
The author himself emphasizes that his stories, his protagonists, will not change the course of the stars, but isn't that precisely what someone who reads a book to pass the time is looking for?
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