When the stock market crashed in 2008, my friend, Aslim, lost $146,000, his life saving, and also his house. Unchastened, he's continued to invest in stocks with the little he earns selling purses at a shopping mall kiosk, a business that's gone down considerably. Like a lunatic, Aslim spends most of his waking hours jotting down the changes in his stocks nearly minute-by-minute, as if there's any intelligible pattern to decipher. Even with fresh losses, he has repeatedly declared himself an "expert," while at other times, he's so in despair, his eyes redden. Below, I reproduce a few pages of Alim's foolish jotting. He has reams and reams of these. The first image is a detail.
(I've also written about Aslim in this 2013 poem and 2010 article.)