When I was looking for a book to borrow and read in the municipal library branch in the civic center, I heard that classic chorus that praised family love for the four seasons.
Stop it, stop it. I can't stand being here.
It hurts, it hurts. It hurts very much.
I'm tired of the overflowing gentleness of lukewarm water, and I'm going to vomit, I'm going to drown.
A total attack that middle-aged women are accustomed to, such as so-so, nice, good, good, yeah, yeah.
I couldn't stand it anymore, I couldn't give up, I didn't borrow a book, and I went out to escape.