Many of our troubles come from being too earnest. We take ourselves and the world too seriously. We get used to worrying about trifles and chasing illusions, ready to spend our lives for nothing. Isn’t this a sufficient reason to stop once in a while and look at all this with humor?
The real author’s books speak for themselves, and discussing the author is almost irrelevant; he is just the medium who puts the ideas into words. It is as unimportant as details of his background and private life. The only significant thing is his narrative.
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"A host of dream" novels
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"Foliant" 5000 c. 1997
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"Loneliness of the truth" novels
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"Publishing service" 500 c. 2001
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"Tough lads"
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"Olma-Press" 7000 ñ. 2005
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