"Weird Fishes"

Sanity has became compressed into an uninspired white, sterile room devoid of the necessary aesthetic functions conducive to creative stimulation. Only here do clouds gather in the absence of winds. When the storm has finally finished its deliberate dawdling it unleashes a lethargic torrent of disgust, apathy, but calm. [ ] waddles doggy-paddles and twaddles. As he floats and sinks through this chilly inundation of dry words and empty thoughts, he can't help but notice the solemn expressions of the mute fishes attracted by this newcomer, although whether or not they extend their greetings cannot be surmised. He wonders what they make of this uninvited loiterer and his unfocused, deadpan gaze, but soon realizes the absurdity of wondering the wonders of fish. However long they have mindlessly or deliberately swam circles in their confinement cannot be known. But as with any fish, no matter what tank one tosses them in, he or she will always appear calm, at ease, and habituated with their new surrounding. [ ] is reminded, though, that he is no fish.

I'm sorry friends, but my weekend just got Dirli[c]ked

I don't know why and I usually don't care.

But holding a ph.D shouldn't allow you the liberty to litter your publications with needlessly protracted six-line sentences jumbled with baseless theoretical jargons and passive voice structures. More pictures in your books would also help too. Why must you deliberately make what otherwise would be an interesting argument so difficult to read?

Hong Kong.

Macau