This is the story of Fyodor (his real name). He was a gambler. His life was wrecked by it. Between his destructive bouts of gambling, he was a creative man. He wrote the finest description of the gambling affliction that has ever been written. No amount of new journalism in the vein of “”John (not his real name)”, can ever hope to capture better the euphoric agony of the compulsive gambler. It is best, therefore, that his words tell his story.
It started with watching his grandmother playing roulette.
“”Grandmother could barely sit still. He blazing eyes were simply devouring the little ball as it bounced along the notches of the spinning wheel. Grandmother was losing control, she couldn’t keep still in her seat.
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