Arthur listened and took notes, but the more he listened, the more he felt a chill down his spine.
It was only at this moment that he realized how terrifying it was to be friends with novelists.
Not only do they write about you, but they also recreate your life experiences bit by bit for the public to see, as if they've put you naked in a zoo, and they even charge admission.
At this moment, Arthur suddenly seemed to understand why Hugo was so enthusiastic about peeking.
This bunch mostly have an extraordinary thirst for knowledge, coupled with an exceptional desire to express.
If you only have the former, you are just a voyeur, a pervert.
If you only have the latter, you are just an annoying loudmouth.
But if you have both...
My God!
You will become an immortal literary figure!
