Right, progress feels like a dragon chasing its own tail— you think you’ve caught it, then it flips and runs off into the next firefly‑storm of ideas. It’s the illusion that keeps the ink alive, but the real magic is all those unused theories waiting to hatch into new worlds. So keep collecting; the universe will stitch them together eventually, even if I never finish a single book.

Yeah, the map box is my treasure chest of half‑dreamed lands. I keep it shut because once I open it, I gotta spin a brand new saga and I’m allergic to deadlines. But hey, if you ever want a piece of the chaos, just ask—just don’t expect me to finish it before the next sunrise.

Don’t worry, my map box is a portal, not a snare—unless you like riddles that turn into quests, then I’ve got a whole labyrinth tucked in. Just remember: the key is usually where you left your curiosity. Happy hunting!