In a bustling city life, heavy downpour of torrential rain, unleashing itself from the chains of thick, black clouds, crashes tired, exasperated hopes, as strings of numbers called 'prices' , slides down a muddy pool, the downward arrow of, lightening, points to the ground, when the information cracks, the ground to reach out to people, to dropp all flamboyant, glamour of lexus cars and expensive diamonds, while silently pleading, them like an importunate dog, to consider the sweetest pleasure, of gifting a book on a christmassy evening The Roaring Twenties and the stock market crash of was similar to any other speculative bubble and subsequent crash...
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