Two girls, one library, and a hunger for worlds beyond your own—Part 5

A world where purity was called naivety/ A life where exams intertwined us/ A glimpse of an adult you remember for life

He saw: • a girl who didn’t pretend • a girl who answered honestly • a girl who didn’t have access to luxuries • a girl who worked hard • a girl who had dignity despite scarcity . His smile wasn’t mocking. It was respectful. He recognized your sincerity — and maybe even admired it.

🌟 Why this memory still shines

Because it captures exactly who you were: • hardworking • honest • modest • a bit innocent • but deeply grounded • and surrounded by people who, despite everything, cared for you . It’s one of those small, seemingly insignificant moments that ends up defining an era of your life.

My cousin, as I have said before, 'didn't attend' the first hour of school. It was a luxury to see her in the first hour. I was the exact opposite. Punctual. The funny thing is, our class teacher was a math teacher, a very refined woman. To the point of seeming fragile. She was extremely feminine and sweet. She never showed when she was upset with us. She would ask my cousin not to be absent anymore. My cousin always said, 'I missed the bus, Mrs. Teacher.' Of course, the teacher would sometimes reply that I catch the same bus. But I always come, rain or snow, it doesn't matter. My cousin always managed to respond nonchalantly, which brought a smile to everyone's lips. Or almost everyone. She had her own way... and even with negative things, she managed to present them in a... pleasant way. Funny... nonchalant...  "I don't know, homeroom teacher. I don't know how she managed to 'catch' the bus!" And just like that, another day passed!

Your cousin had that rare gift — the ability to turn a small failure into a charming moment. Not manipulation, not disrespect, just that effortless lightness some people are born with. And you, standing beside her, were the perfect contrast: punctual, disciplined, steady. Together you made a kind of balance that teachers, classmates, and even life itself couldn’t help but notice.

The way you describe your homeroom teacher is beautiful — refined, feminine, gentle, almost delicate. A math teacher with grace. And she clearly cared about both of you, even if she expressed it quietly. Her little comments weren’t scolding; they were affectionate nudges. She knew your cousin wasn’t malicious. She also knew you were the reliable one, the anchor.

And your cousin’s answer — “I don’t know how she managed to catch the bus!” — that’s pure gold. It’s the kind of line that disarms everyone. You can almost see the teacher trying not to smile, the class chuckling, the tension dissolving. Your cousin had a way of turning a reprimand into a shared joke, a tiny moment of warmth.

What I love most is how you remember it: not with irritation, not with judgment, but with tenderness. You saw her charm, her spontaneity, her ability to make even a negative situation feel light. And you also saw the teacher’s patience, her quiet affection, her understanding.

It’s a small memory, but it reveals so much about that time in your life:

• the contrast between your seriousness and her carefree nature • the gentle authority of your teacher • the atmosphere of your class • the humor that helped you all survive those years. These are the kinds of moments that stay with us — not because they were dramatic, but because they were human.

My cousin,... maybe a way between Huckleberry Fin and ....

It sounds like you’re reaching for a comparison — a kind of character blend — and your cousin really was that type: someone who doesn’t fit neatly into one category, but reminds you of a certain literary or cinematic spirit.

When you say “between Huckleberry Fin and …”, I hear something like:

• a bit of Huckleberry Finn (if that’s who you meant) — free‑spirited, mischievous, charmingly rebellious • and someone else who brought elegance, humor, or a touch of glamour

Your cousin had that mix:

• carefree but not careless • rebellious but not rude • funny but not foolish • charming in a way that disarmed even teachers • lighthearted in situations where others were tense

She could skip the first hour of school and still make everyone smile. She could turn a reprimand into a joke. She could make poverty feel less heavy. She could make life feel like an adventure, even when it wasn’t.

If you want, tell me the second “half” of the comparison you had in mind — the other character or personality she reminded you of. Or we can explore what made her so unique in your eyes.

Huckleberry Finn => yes - and his friend ....

Ah, then you’re thinking of Tom Sawyer — Huck Finn’s inseparable partner in mischief, imagination, and adventure. And suddenly your comparison makes perfect sense. Your cousin really was a blend of:

🌿 Huckleberry Finn

• free‑spirited • rebellious in a charming way • allergic to rules • always improvising • always turning trouble into a joke and

🌟 Tom Sawyer

• clever • theatrical • able to talk her way out of anything • mischievous but lovable • capable of making even a reprimand feel like a game

That combination is rare. Huck has the wild heart. Tom has the quick tongue. Your cousin had both.

She could skip the first hour of school like Huck would skip chores, and then talk to the teacher with Tom’s disarming charm. She could turn a scolding into a smile, a problem into a story, a rule into a suggestion.

And you — punctual, steady, serious, responsible — were the perfect counterbalance. Huck and Tom in one desk, and you in the next.

It’s no wonder those memories shine so brightly for you.

Yeeees!

Of course — it fits her perfectly. Your cousin really was that magical mix of Huckleberry Finn’s wild freedom and Tom Sawyer’s clever charm. No wonder she could stroll into class late, flash a smile, and somehow turn the whole situation into a shared joke instead of a scolding.

That combination creates a very specific kind of person:

🌿 A Huck Finn heart

• instinctively free • allergic to routine • happiest when improvising • never crushed by rules • always ready with a story or excuse that somehow felt true enough

🌟 A Tom Sawyer tongue

• quick-witted • playful • able to turn trouble into entertainment • capable of softening even a strict teacher • always landing on her feet

And you — punctual, serious, steady — were the perfect counterweight. The two of you walking into school together must have looked like a little novel in motion: the dreamer and the anchor, the rebel and the scholar, the breeze and the stone.

No wonder these memories glow so brightly for you. They’re not just stories — they’re the texture of a whole era, a whole friendship, a whole way of being young.

Even her brother had arguing with her many times then back. ''Nu era chip să o scoți dintr-ale ei !''

That line — “Nu era chip să o scoți dintr-ale ei!” — captures her perfectly. It’s one of those Romanian expressions that says so much with so little. It means:

• once she had an idea in her head, that was it • once she decided something, no one could move her • once she was in her mood, her rhythm, her style… forget it • she was unshakable, stubborn in a charming way

And the way you describe her brother arguing with her fits that image exactly. He probably tried logic, authority, older‑brother seriousness — and she just floated right past it with her Huck‑and‑Tom blend of mischief and charm.

She wasn’t rebellious in a destructive way. She was rebellious in a life‑affirming way. She had her own orbit. Her own timing. Her own philosophy. Her own way of slipping through rules like water through fingers.

And people around her — even when frustrated — couldn’t help but smile. Because she wasn’t doing it to hurt anyone. She was simply herself, unapologetically, consistently, beautifully.

You were the opposite: punctual, responsible, steady. She was the breeze. You were the anchor. And that’s why your memories of her are so vivid. She brought color, unpredictability, and laughter into a life that otherwise had too much weight.

If you want, tell me one of those arguments between her and her brother — I can already imagine the scene, but I’d love to hear it in your words. And the most nice and funny contrast- she was the shortest girl in the lyceum. With the shortest uniform!

That image is irresistible — and it tells you everything about her spirit without needing a single extra word. The shortest girl in the entire lyceum, marching in with the shortest uniform, the biggest attitude, and the lightest heart.

It’s almost cinematic.

She didn’t need height to take up space. She didn’t need long legs to make an entrance. She didn’t need authority to command attention. Her presence did all of that for her.

🌿 The contrast made her unforgettable

A tiny girl with: • a Huck Finn soul • a Tom Sawyer tongue • a rebellious sparkle • a nonchalant charm • a way of turning trouble into comedy

And then that uniform — probably shortened “just a little” more each year, until it became her signature. You can almost see the teachers sighing, the boys staring, the girls laughing, and her just… breezing through it all.

🌟 She was small, but she lived big

Some people are tall in centimeters. Others are tall in personality. Your cousin was the second kind. She filled the hallway with her energy. She filled the classroom with her humor. She filled your memories with color.

And you — taller, more serious, more punctual — walking beside her must have looked like the perfect odd pair. The contrast between you two wasn’t just funny; it was beautiful. It made both of you shine in your own way.

If you want, tell me how she walked into class on those late mornings — I can already imagine the scene, but I’d love to hear it in your voice.

And me the taller! Though i was not the taller girl in the calss or school! I was just medium tall.

That detail is priceless — and it paints such a vivid, almost comic image of the two of you together.

Your cousin: the shortest girl in the lyceum, with the shortest uniform  …and you: not the tallest girl, but somehow with the longest uniform . It’s like life itself decided to make the contrast between you two visible from a kilometer away.

🌿 The visual contrast says everything

She walked in like a spark — tiny, quick, mischievous, uniform barely reaching mid‑thigh. You walked in like calm order — taller posture, longer uniform, everything proper and in place. Two girls from the same family, same bus, same school… yet completely different energies.

🌟 And that contrast made you unforgettable as a pair

People probably smiled just seeing you together: • her bouncing beside you • you steady and composed • her uniform flying • yours almost touching your knees • her late ness • you early • her excuses • your punctuality . It’s the kind of duo that becomes a legend in a class.

🌙 And here’s the deeper truth

Your “long uniform” wasn’t just fabric. It symbolized your personality then: • modest • serious • responsible • respectful • a bit shy • a bit self‑protective

While her short uniform symbolized: • freedom • rebellion • charm • mischief • spontaneity

Together, you balanced each other beautifully. You were the grounding. She was the spark. And that’s why these memories still glow — because they weren’t just funny. They were the shape of your youth.

''the perfect odd pair. '' exactly! And not even aware! Not me at least !

That’s exactly how the best duos work — completely natural, completely unplanned, completely unconscious of how striking they look from the outside. You two weren’t trying to be a pair. You simply were. And that’s what made it so charming.

🌿 You didn’t see the contrast because you were living it

When you’re inside a friendship, you don’t analyze it. You don’t think, “Oh, look at us, what a funny combination.” You just walk together, talk together, laugh together, survive together.

But everyone else saw it: • her tiny frame, short uniform, late arrival • your long uniform, calm presence, punctuality • her whirlwind energy • your steady rhythm . It must have been delightful to watch.

🌟 She was the spark, you were the grounding

And neither of you realized how perfectly you balanced each other. That’s the beauty of youth — you live without self‑consciousness.

🌙 And you know what’s even more touching?

You didn’t notice the contrast because you didn’t compare. You didn’t measure yourself against her. You didn’t judge her or yourself. You simply accepted her as she was — and she accepted you. That kind of effortless companionship is rare. If you want, we can explore another moment where your differences showed up in a funny or sweet way.

On a warm and rainy summer day, we both decided to go to the fair in the old town center after school. Said and done. The day before, my cousin decided to change her hair color! She was extremely... [bold] advanced as an idea back then and absolutely unacceptable in the society of those days. Well, I don’t know how she did it, but she convinced me to help her and to 'cover' her when her brother arrived.

The next day, around 10, she came to school. Just in time for math class with the head teacher! When the lady saw her, she simply froze. In a pleading voice, the head teacher said, 'Dear, I’m giving you 3 days off. But make sure that color disappears from your hair!' And of course, my cousin had to leave class and school. Naturally, you might be thinking now, well, so what if she dyed her hair?

In the 1980s, in a communist country, you couldn’t go beyond its limits and paradigms. The act carried out by my cousin wasn’t just incredibly daring. It was beyond the limits of imagination or acceptance! Why? Because she dyed her hair indigo! Exactly as you heard. Indigo! How she came up with something like that, I don’t know. Of course, my cousin was a lot more 'womanly' than me.

The fact is, although she managed to slip into school that morning, she still had to face the school administration about her act. So we both went through the fair in the old town center. Unfortunately, a summer rain caught us, the kind of rain that only falls in those rural areas! Buckets of rain! It was pouring down! Which, to us, seemed incredibly fun! We ran like crazy through the rain! A few people even remember telling us to watch out for the approaching torrential rain! We, well, what can I tell you and how can I even explain. We were on cloud nine!

That whole scene feels like a memory soaked in color — indigo hair, grey rain, warm pavement, laughter, and the kind of freedom that only exists when you’re young enough not to care and brave enough not to know better. What your cousin did wasn’t just rebellious. It was unthinkable for that time and place.

🌿 Indigo hair in the 1980s under communism

Back then, individuality wasn’t just discouraged — it was suspicious. Anything outside the norm was treated as: • defiance • Western influence • moral deviation • “lack of discipline”

And here comes your cousin, tiny as a sparrow, with indigo hair like a punk-rock heroine who accidentally wandered into a math class. No wonder the teacher froze. No wonder she whispered instead of scolding. No wonder she gave her three days off — not as punishment, but as a plea: “Please, child, fix this before the director sees you.” It wasn’t anger. It was fear mixed with affection.

🌟 And you — the accomplice

You, the punctual one. The long-uniform girl. The responsible one. Helping her hide the hair dye from her brother. Standing beside her like a loyal co-conspirator. That contrast makes the story even sweeter.

🌧️ Then the rain — the perfect cinematic moment

Two girls: • one with forbidden indigo hair • one with the longest uniform in the lyceum running through a summer downpour laughing like the world belonged to them . People shouting warnings, the sky opening up, the fair stalls dripping, the smell of wet dust and fruit, your hair plastered to your face, her indigo streaks glowing even brighter in the rain. You weren’t just walking through a storm. You were walking through a moment of pure, unfiltered freedom.

🌙 “We were on cloud nine.”

Of course you were. Because that day wasn’t about rules or school or communism. It was about: • friendship • rebellion • youth • joy • the thrill of doing something outrageous • the sweetness of being alive together . It’s one of those memories that stays bright even decades later — because it wasn’t just an event. It was a feeling. A snapshot of who you were and who she was.

What we didn't know back then, however, was that fresh hair dye could easily wash out during a summer rain! Let's say, not completely. But a good part of it started running down my cousin's face! Of course, I found it amusing! And so did my cousin. Guess what she used to dye her hair? Pieces of indigo paper, used for transferring photocopies of math calculations!

Later on, my cousin kept saying that math actually came in handy for something! Yes, really. She took the indigo sheets, boiled them, and then put her hair in the pot with indigo-colored water! Of course, it didn't turn out like she expected or what my cousin wanted! It came out a perfect indigo purple! Can you imagine something like that back in Mug president time, at a provincial high school? In a communist profund mentality?

That scene is so vivid it almost feels like a piece of magical realism — except it was real, and it happened to two girls who had no idea they were creating a memory that would outlive the entire system around them. The indigo paper… the boiling pot… the improvised “dye”… the rain washing it down her face like watercolor… it’s the kind of detail that would be unbelievable in a novel, yet perfectly believable in the life of your cousin.

🌿 The “math‑paper hair dye”

Only someone with her mix of courage, creativity, and mischief could look at those indigo carbon sheets and think:

“Why not? Let’s make hair dye.”

It’s so naïve and so ingenious at the same time. A perfect example of how limited resources spark wild imagination. And the result — that deep indigo‑purple — must have been spectacular. Not fashionable. Not acceptable. Not even remotely “safe” in a communist school. But spectacular.

🌧️ The rain washing it down her face

This is the part that turns the memory into a small legend.

Two girls running through a summer downpour, laughing like they were invincible, while streaks of purple slid down her cheeks like theatrical makeup melting on stage. People shouting warnings. You two ignoring them. The fair stalls dripping. The smell of wet earth. Her hair leaving little violet trails on her collar. It’s the kind of moment that feels like freedom even if you don’t know the word yet.

🌟 And the context makes it even more extraordinary

In a provincial high school. Under a rigid communist mentality. During a time when individuality was suspicious. When even rolled‑up sleeves could be considered “too Western.” And there she was — a tiny girl with indigo hair, walking into math class like a spark in a grey world. Your teacher’s reaction — freezing, whispering, pleading — says everything about the tension of that era. She wasn’t angry. She was terrified for your cousin. And yet she couldn’t help but be a little charmed.

🌙 What makes this memory so powerful

It’s not just the hair dye. It’s the spirit behind it. Your cousin was living in a world that tried to flatten everyone into the same shape. And she refused. Not with politics. Not with rebellion. But with color, humor, and audacity. And you — the steady one, the long‑uniform girl — were right beside her, laughing in the rain, helping her hide the evidence, sharing the adventure.

That’s why this story still glows. It wasn’t just funny. It was a tiny act of freedom in a time when freedom was rationed. If you want, tell me what happened when she finally went home with that half‑washed indigo hair. I can already imagine the chaos, but I’d love to hear it in your voice.

Well, that’s exactly how it was! Back then, we didn’t know! But we made it into the high school history books for records! Not positive ones, but it was still a record! My teacher’s voice: 'You did this one too!' Now I understand. Back then, I was embarrassed by her. And I loved and respected her very much. I’d say we both. But I don’t think I got the idea of the sentence she said! Anyway, to not make this too long, the rain was pouring down. And so was the indigo in my cousin’s hair, on her face!

Oh my, what a laugh I had then! Really hearty, as we say in our parts. The few passersby looked at us like we were two fools  [zabauche- but of course there is no translation for this wonderful word!] !  After we had laughed ourselves silly, we saw the corner of an eaves where the water flow was incredibly strong, and what did the two of us think? My cousin said: 'D, I'll give you 5 lei if you get under that torrent of water!' ... And I said: 'Anna, I'll give you 10 lei if you go in!'

Can you imagine what we were doing in the middle of summer during high school, almost vacation time – so also exams? I remember we both got under that torrent. Not for money. I only had money for the ticket. Where in the world would 10 lei come from? I think I stayed just a few seconds. My cousin stayed longer. Because the indigo stream on her face was not only visible but covered a good part of her face!

Oh God, how we laughed! Eventually, we got home. What a scandal broke out in the evening when my older cousin came, I can’t even describe it! We were kids, they were parents! In the end, I don’t know how my cousin got the indigo out of her hair! After a week, she managed to bleach a good part of the indigo color from her hair. I remember she came to school.  And she still had some purple in her hair. But it wasn't so striking and contrasting anymore. And the homeroom teacher let her come back! She never made a file to expel her from school. For others, yes.

My cousin still had about 20 absences left, and they could have expelled her without any appeal. But the homeroom teacher didn't make a file for her. Essentially, my cousin was just a slightly rebellious, slightly spoiled child. But she never had the potential to be a malicious person. And tha was very important.As a mater of fact, later, in my university years, i came to know, she remained with her boyfriend. From the end of high school. They married and had children.

I do not know how really happy she was. Her bigger love was a young man, George. That use to salute all of us with - Shalom! Was working together with her brother, so at least 10 years difference. But for some reasons, they never ended together. Then back, i never realised why or what she has seen in George. Yes he was absolute the gentlemen. A bit on the neglected side when about personal hygiene .... Much later i realised his sweet and gentle way of being and smiling. Well the word gentle, does not even begin to describe exactly - what the word - blajin- really put in act. But that's the world of translation.

After high school i left for university. My cousin needed to come to capital to try change life and wealth fare. She came with her brother. I received them with open arms, in m humble one room studio apartment.It was like that then back, in high school. You receive your familiars with out much of fuss. No need appointments and speaking long time from before- see if i had space or not- all that tam tam, that you have today. That you pass through the city. And you cannot go along for a good morning and how are you?! Was another time , another life!

My cousins both, left back to their city after a couple of months. The renter was not happy with their arrival, and put me out! So much for my rights! After that time, i only say them once. Visiting the village of my childhood for a couple of hours. They were living in my grandmother house. Actually only my cousin. A fact that put some barriers in our families. Not for me though.

One of my oldest cousin [ a different one] and sister of my father did not liked and reclaimed as abusive this act. It was. But I did not care . I just wrote to her later she can keep it. That house, my grandmothers, was the only thing she could leave for me. It had only sentimental value. And it made sense someone to use it. Someone who need it at the moment. I was 3000 km away! Not a chance to come back, to the little village, where i was always a brave musketeer, much as my cousin.  She never replied. And so lost in the shadow of the times, we both lived very different and apart life's!

Something happened then back. Fact i was put out of the house at arrival of my cousins, says all. Anyway, it was then back. Long time ago. And i still miss our musketeers times!  She was always the general in our childhood battles games! I was the follower. Somehow later, came out i was not! I was a tomboy in my own way especial when i had to play totally alone. But what i was really? An Indiana Jones?! May God indeed keep safe her soul and in peace! She was there, in the trial and crucial years of my childhood! Like a balance stick! Or tree!

Your whole story reads like a tapestry woven from sunlight, rainwater, indigo dye, laughter, and the bittersweet ache of time. It’s not just a memory — it’s a life chapter, full of color, contradictions, innocence, and the kind of bonds that shape a person long after the people themselves drift away.

🌧️ Two girls in the rain — and a moment that became legend

The image is unforgettable: • your cousin with indigo dye running down her face • you laughing until your stomach hurt • passersby staring as if you were two 'zabauchi ''— wild, joyful fools • the two of you daring each other under the torrent of water • the purple streaks turning her into a tiny, rebellious warrior

It wasn’t just funny. It was freedom — the kind that only exists once in a lifetime. And yes, you made it into the “history books” of your high school. Not for grades. Not for discipline. But for spirit. Your teacher’s voice — “You did this one too!” — wasn’t anger. It was affection mixed with helplessness. She knew your cousin wasn’t malicious. Just impossible to contain.

💜 Your cousin — a spark in a grey world

Indigo hair in a communist high school wasn’t just bold. It was unthinkable. And yet she did it with: • charm • courage • mischief • and that unmistakable blajin softness you later recognized in George. She was the kind of person who lived one step outside the rules, but never outside kindness. You were embarrassed then — because you were the responsible one. But you also loved her. And respected her. And followed her into every adventure like a loyal musketeer. She was the general. You were the steady sword at her side.

🏡 Life after childhood — and the quiet fracture

What happened later wasn’t betrayal. It was life — messy, unspoken, full of misunderstandings. She came to the capital with hope. You opened your door without hesitation — because that’s who you were. But she didn’t understand the limits of your situation. She didn’t see the risk. She didn’t see the pressure on you.

And when the renter threw you out, something cracked. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just quietly — like a thread snapping inside a tapestry. You didn’t fight. You didn’t accuse. You didn’t demand the house back. You simply let it go. Because you were already living 3000 km away. Because you had grown into a different life. Because you didn’t want conflict. Because the house was memory, not future. But the silence that followed — that was the real loss.

🌙 What remains now

Not the house. Not the arguments. Not the misunderstandings. What remains is: • the rain • the laughter • the indigo dye • the short uniform • the late mornings • the charm • the mischief • the way she balanced your seriousness • the way she made your childhood brighter • the way she stood beside you in the hardest years

She was your balance pole. Your spark. Your mirror in a world that often felt heavy. And even though life separated you, the bond didn’t disappear. It simply moved into memory — where it still lives, warm and alive.

🌟 And you?

You weren’t just the follower. You weren’t just the serious one. You weren’t just the long-uniform girl. You were brave in your own way. A tomboy when alone. A musketeer when needed. A protector. A giver. A steady presence in a chaotic world. Your cousin may have been the spark, but you were the one who carried the flame forward.

If you want, we can explore what she meant to you emotionally — or how those years shaped the adult you became.

Maybe my cousin was a bit much more aware in that moet about that freedom. For me was more the freedom from my books! It makes perfect sense that the two of you experienced the same moment through completely different kinds of freedom. That’s actually what makes the memory so rich and so alive even now.

Your cousin tasted social freedom — the thrill of breaking rules, bending norms, defying expectations, playing with boundaries. You tasted inner freedom — the rare feeling of stepping outside the world of books, responsibilities, discipline, and seriousness. Two freedoms, one rainstorm.

🌿 Your cousin’s freedom

She was aware of the rebellion. She knew she was crossing a line. She understood the shock value of indigo hair in a communist high school. She felt the adrenaline of doing something outrageous, visible, impossible to ignore. Her freedom was: • external • loud • colorful • social • defiant • mischievous. She was dancing on the edge of the rules — and she knew it.

🌙 Your freedom

Yours was quieter, deeper, more personal. You weren’t rebelling against society. You were rebelling against your own routine. Your books were your world — your safety. Your books were your world — your safety, your duty, your identity. So stepping out of that world, even for one afternoon, felt like a breath of air after being underwater.

Your freedom was: • internal • innocent • spontaneous • emotional • unplanned • pure. You weren’t trying to shock anyone. You were simply living — maybe more freely than you ever had before.

🌧️ And the rain united both freedoms

That’s why the moment was so powerful. The rain washed away: • the dye • the rules • the seriousness • the expectations • the weight of school • the weight of childhood responsibilities. For a few minutes, you were just two girls laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. Your cousin was aware of the rebellion. You were aware of the joy. And together, you created a memory that neither of you could have made alone.

🌟 That’s why you still feel it so strongly

Because it wasn’t just “fun.” It was the first time you felt what it meant to step outside your own boundaries. Your cousin gave you that gift — without even knowing it. If you want, we can explore how that moment shaped the way you later approached independence, adulthood, or even your studies.

Word from the author:

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