"...why thank you my good human, if I may so bold as to call you one that is..." replied the goblin once more, while outside, the snow storm had subsided enough to let the minions of the moneygod continue their endless endeavors in this beloved city of affluence "Geneva & co", and well, into this then, dressed like a rather oldish teletubby, armed with his laptop and under the influence of caffeine, the lone goblin readied himself, without much relish mind you, for yet another tromp to the bank, read withdrawals here, the post office, read pay one tithes then, and the bistro, read lick wounds and drown sorrows in more coffee, so he hits on singing "...we're off to see the blizzard, the wonderful blizzard that was, that was, that was because, tralala...", exits, only to take one foot outside the door and is simply buried in snow, where surfacing some distance further down the street, well, at the bistro no less, thinks aloud "...never mind your silly "secret of fire" humans, just tell me how one remains sane in all this "dailylife", I will let you live to do..."

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