How I ate asphalt

It happens, take a book in my hands, a good book that has been trying to read for several years. And you think: "Well, the Christmas tree sticks, Musol Musolol, and what we are talking about - I do not understand!". And all day it is not your own, first read with one eye, then another. And somewhere at the hour of the night, you approach the most dusty, the farthest shelf, hiding it there and say yourself: "Everything is enough!". And the mood is improving.
And in the morning you wake up, remember about the book, and the mood is improving again. And then you decide to write my own, something like a remake. Neither cheerful nor sad, but so that and smile forced, and think about it. And to read it and fans, and opponents of that first book, and their mood has improved