Subject.
Nothing much to report. The hostel is doing okay. There are too many people working here. My tax class is almost over. The rain has descended upon the land, and the land defends itself by excreting a strange brown mucus all over its surface. And it sticks to the shoes and people walking around on clean floors leave trails like slugs. The wind blows through your clothes. Sometimes you can feel it on your nose. That's just how the weather goes. No mercy at all.