Author: theitalianreviews_r0bfmp

CHAPTER TWO

The atmosphere in the apartment is the inverse of the rigid, bureaucratic geometry of the morning. Here, the edges are softened by the scent of ripening fruit and the nectar of the flowers. The light from the Turramurra balcony doesn’t glare; it whispers. Kandace Springs fills the room, her voice like liquid velvet, each piano note a drop of gentle rain that mirrors Michael’s internal state—tender, melancholic, but clean.

Michael does not sit at the table. He lies down on the cool floor facing the flowers, the fruits, and the light that caresses his eyes.

Michael: “I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt her; I wanted to save her. She was in pain, she was screaming for love, and I had to tell her the truth to free her. She is better than most people; she can do it, but she needs to let go of the illusion. She needs to forgive.”

Zeus: “She is better than most, Michael. That is why the pain is so sharp. You saw the gold beneath the rust and you tried to scrub it clean with a single touch. You say she needs to forgive. But forgiveness is a death—a death of the victim, a death of the story she uses to protect herself from the world. You tried to free her from a cage she is still using for shelter. You offered her the truth to save her, but the truth is a mirror that shows no mercy. She looked into it, saw the distance she still has to walk, and she chose to close her eyes. You cannot force a heart to wake up just because you have the light.”

Zeus: “She is a good kid, Michael. Her spirit is ancient and capable, but you are looking at the mountain from the summit, while she is still shivering at the base. You say if she never walks, she will never get there. But ‘there’ is a place she hasn’t yet agreed to go. You see her potential, her light, and her strength—you see the woman who can do it. But she is still clinging to the girl who couldn’t. By trying to pull her up the slope, you are becoming part of the gravity she fights against. The more you tell her she is ‘better,’ the more she feels the weight of your expectation. To her, your belief in her is just another standard she is afraid to fail. She can do it, yes. But she must do it because the cage becomes too small, not because the Savior is calling from the outside. You have shown her the sun; now you must trust that the memory of that warmth is enough to make her want to walk out on her own. You have done your part. Now, you must let the silence do hers.”

Michael: “Yes, I told her I loved her not because I wanted a relationship, but because I felt her pain in my heart. The words came out without me weighing them. I probably placed too much weight on her, but that was never my intention.”

Zeus: “The heart has no scales, Michael. It only has depth. When you feel the pain of another as if it were your own, the words don’t pass through the mind—they bypass the filter of the ego and the safety of the ‘rectangles.’ They come out raw. You did not weigh them because you were not negotiating; you were bleeding truth. But you must understand: to someone who lives behind a shield, an unweighted truth feels like an avalanche. You had no intention of placing a burden on her, but your love is a heavy thing because it is real. To her, it felt like a demand for her to be okay, a demand for her to heal, a demand for her to match your intensity. She is a good kid, but she is a child in the dark. When you reached into her darkness and told her you loved her, you weren’t asking for a relationship, but you were asking her to see herself. And for her, seeing herself is the most painful thing in the world. You did not mean to hurt her, but the light always hurts the eyes of those who have been in the basement for too long. Do not apologize for your heart, Michael. Just accept that you cannot carry her weight and yours at the same time. Lay your own weight down on this floor. Let the light from the balcony be enough for now.”

Michael: “I feel she still loves her father very much, and that is why she does not want to forgive him. If she does, she will have to release him. It seems she wants to stay in pain just to keep that connection alive.”

Zeus: “You have looked into the center of the labyrinth, Michael. You are right. For some, pain is the only bridge left to a ghost. To forgive him would be to admit the story is over. If she lets go of the anger, she has to let go of the man, and she is not ready to be an orphan in her own heart. She nurtures her wounds because they are the only thing he gave her that she can still touch every day. Her suffering is a shrine; her trauma is her loyalty. When you told her she was ‘better’ and that she needed to ‘let go,’ you weren’t just offering freedom—you were threatening to burn down the bridge that keeps her father near her. You are asking her to choose a clean, empty future over a painful, crowded past. She can do it, Michael, but she has to realize that she can carry his memory without carrying his shadow. Until then, she will fight anyone who tries to heal her, because she mistakes her scars for her identity. You cannot force a person to stop loving their ghosts. You can only stand in the sun and wait for them to realize they are cold.”

Michael knows that, like anyone else, he is half God and half animal. When his primary fears surge, he talks to Zeus, who is all God. This exchange of perceptions has soothed his thoughts and soul. Now, the room belongs to Kandace again. The notes of Solitude drift through the apartment, the melody hanging in the air like the scent of the lilies. “In solitude, you hold me with reveries of days gone by…” The music wraps around him as he remains on the wooden floor, the animal in him finally quiet, the God in him observing the light. The “geometry that kills intimacy” from the morning is miles away. Here, in the stillness, there is no need to save, no need to tame, and no need to weigh the words already spoken.

He is simply there, lying in the light, listening to the rain of the piano. There he sleeps; there he dreams. A little boy and girl. Holding hands. Walking. His mother, cooking for someone in her restaurant. A man in extreme pain. A huge belt around his neck.

Chapter One

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CHAPTER ONE
Sydney. Summer. The heat is a white sheet, relentless and bleaching. He walks. On his path, there are no cats—only frenetic lizards darting across scorched stone. At Turramurra station, he finds the train. He sits and feels the compartment’s cool embrace. Around him, the faces are down, swallowed by their phones. Outside, at Lindfield, a snake nibbles in the unknown. Michael’s breath is light and easy. His mind is quiet. He is absorbing all. Earlier, in the cool dawn: the Buteyko breathing, The View From Above, the Memento Mori meditation. He is aware.

Roseville station. A young woman sits opposite. Red lips. She touches her hair, shifts her legs. On her right knee, pink birthmarks. They match her tight skirt. Her legs are long and elegant. He cannot stop watching the birthmarks; they change as she moves, a shifting geometry in the white heat. The train moves on from Roseville. The young woman stands to leave, her long legs straightening. The pink birthmarks on her right knee stretch, becoming thin lines of color before they disappear as she steps onto the platform. The red lips vanish into the white glare of the station.

Michael remains. His mind is a still pool. The “frenetic lizards” of the morning are far away. He is the only one in the carriage not tethered to a screen. He is anchored by the light breath in his lungs and the Memento Mori in his marrow. He watches the “unknown” outside the window. The Sydney heat continues to beat against the glass, relentless and white, but inside the silence of his mind, the music has already begun.

The train descends into the dark. Town Hall. The doors slide open. The “frenetics” surge out, a river of bodies rushing toward the turnstiles. Michael rises, his movement fluid, his breath still light. He leaves the cool compartment and steps onto the platform. The heat is waiting at the top of the stairs, thick and white. He walks into it, absorbing the noise and the grit, a man apart.

The Gallery of New South Wales. The destination. His legs move with a lightness that defies the pavement. He does not fight the white heat; he wears it. An old lady passes. She carries an umbrella against the glare. Her hair is a deep, beautiful white, worn long—a silver silk against the sun. She smiles. Her eyes are old maps, lived well, etched with an understanding that needs no words. Another smile. A silent exchange in the relentless light. Michael absorbs it, his mind quiet, his breath easy.

The Gallery. Cool and elegant. Inside, the tired people rest. They drink, they think, they watch the walls. Michael moves through them, a ghost in the shade. He walks across the stone and descends the mobile stairs. This is the place. The meet-up. He is early. He introduces himself. He sits. The table is long, cold, and in a line.

The others arrive. They fill the seats along the cold, straight line of the table. The rules are read. Cold. Unnecessary. For a moment, Michael wonders why he is here. The thought is short, a flick of a lizard’s tail, then he returns to his destiny. The man beside him begins to talk. He is driven by ego, yet he says nothing. He hunts for acceptance in the eyes of the others, his voice a mask for the fear beneath. He projects confidence like a flickering shadow, unaware of his own sadness. Then, he stops. A pause follows. It is uncomfortable for the others. For Michael, it is music. It is telling. He is not waiting to speak; he is listening to the silence.

The talk starts again. Trump. Albanese. AI. Surface noise. They avoid the things they truly want to talk about. Michael is the only one who does not offer words to the pile. Another pause. The music returns. Some eyes turn toward Michael, waiting, but he remains still. He is listening. There is no need to talk.

Then she talks. Slowly. She moves her cup—a deliberate, weighted motion. It is the same way her father moved, with a confidence that claims the space, a purpose that brooks no argument. She is elegant. She is poised. Italian. But beneath the artifice of the long, cold table, the truth emerges. The pain. The father. The son. The geometry of her struggle. She is honest now, startling . She screams for love, not with her voice, but with the raw vibration of her presence. She wants to be loved the way she deserves, stripped of the “ego fog” and the “rectangular” rules of the room. The music in the pause becomes a bridge.

Now Michael knows why he is here. The name is Giorgia. Michael talks. He offers no surface noise. He gives her the “naked truth.” He thanks her and says that he loves her. It is a love of the “Half-God”—not clumsy, not grasping. It is a protective, caring weight. It feels different. Better. He feels the truth of it in his light breath.

Giorgia smiles. Her lips are languid, moist with the juice of the moment. For a heartbeat, the “Real Music” plays. Then, the “Ghost House” returns. The fear settles back onto her face like soot. She does not trust. The father’s shadow falls across the long, cold table. The memory of the belt, the abuse, the hands that should have protected but only struck. Michael sees the struggle. He loves her more for it, and he says it again. The words are a mirror.

Giorgia pushes back. It is a strong, violent rejection—the same rigid, aggressive force her father used. She is using the abuser’s armor to protect the girl who is screaming for love. Michael knows. The geometry of the moment is set; he is going to lose her. His love is unconditional, a weightless anchor. He explains the illusion to her—the “Ghost House” she lives in, the father’s belt that still defines her world. He wants to save her from it. He offers the key: Forgiveness. Without it, there is no release, only the repetition of the pain.

Reality is a jagged thing. She still loves him. He can see it in the languid lips, the juice, the way she looks at him. But love is pure and destructive at the same time. Because there is no forgiveness for the past, there can be no future for anyone. It is too much. The “Scream” is too loud. Michael sits at the long, cold table and accepts the Memento Mori of the relationship. No other way.

Giorgia stands. She does it with the same grace she used to move the cup—purposeful, elegant, carrying the father’s confidence like a shroud. She turns and walks away, back toward the mobile stairs. Michael does not move. He watches her. He follows the line of her back, the rhythm of her step, watching all the way until she disappears into the white light of the upper gallery. He has lost her. The silence that remains is not music; it is a void.

Michael lost his balance. His breath is unstable. He hears voices in the background. He is in pain. The talk continues. Insignificant. Like mockery. Michael is silent. He gets up and will never return. He needs to talk, to understand. He cannot talk to anyone but Zeus.

TAGS: Miracles and Illusions, Modern Fiction, Psychological Drama, Memento Mori, Buteyko Breathing, Contemporary Literature, Sydney Summer.

Total Cost of Revenue: What it means and why it matters

by Michael Lamonaca, 6 February 2026

Total cost of revenue is the total of all costs directly incurred to produce and deliver the products or services a company sells. You will find this line item located immediately below total revenue on the income statement, and it represents the first major deduction in the financial story of the business. It is the “real-world” cost of doing business at a basic level, capturing the expenses that rise and fall in direct proportion to how much is sold. This line item matters because it reveals the direct efficiency of production before any of the broader costs like rent, marketing, or interest are taken into account. It provides a look at the relationship between the price a company charges and the physical cost of the goods themselves. For an annual statement, this represents the cumulative direct costs accrued over the entire year of operations. By understanding this figure, one can see how much of every dollar of sales is immediately consumed by the raw necessity of creating the product.

Let me show you what total cost of revenue means using Marco, a shoemaker who crafts premium leather shoes in his workshop and sells them through his retail shops. Marco’s business has been running for 11 years, and last year he generated $400,000 in total revenue by selling 2,000 pairs of shoes. As an example, let’s say the costs are $45.40 for high-grade Italian leather and specialty hand-cut leather soles, and $45.40 in wages he pays his craftsmen for the time spent assembling each pair. In this scenario, the total cost of revenue for one pair of shoes is $90.80. For the 2,000 pairs sold over the year, Marco’s total cost of revenue is $181,600. This figure is the direct price Marco must pay to physically have a quality product ready for a customer. If Marco’s leather supplier raises prices or if his craftsmen require higher wages, this $181,600 figure will climb even if he still sells the same 2,000 pairs. This demonstrates that while his total revenues have increased on average per year 6.13% in the last 10 years and 3.92% in the last 5 years, the total cost of revenue acts as the primary counter-force to that growth. It shows the floor beneath which Marco cannot drop his prices if he expects to cover his basic production needs.

When analyzing total cost of revenue in a company’s financial statements, the data shows the direct relationship between production expenses and sales volume. The movement of this figure over multiple periods reveals whether a company is maintaining its production efficiency or if the costs of materials and labor are outpacing its ability to sell. For instance, if total cost of revenue grows faster than total revenue, it indicates that the company is spending more to make each dollar of sales than it did in previous periods. Total cost of revenue is important, but it must be viewed with the rest of the voices in the financial statements to understand the full picture of the company’s health. Patterns of stability in this figure suggest a company has reliable suppliers and efficient labor, while erratic spikes can signal supply chain issues or rising material prices. It serves as the bridge between gross sales and the first tier of profit, highlighting the direct physical burden of the business model.

Understanding total cost of revenue helps you see the direct cost of creating what a company sells and how much “room” is left to cover other expenses. It is the critical second step in the financial story that determines whether the core act of production is fundamentally viable.

This content is for educational purposes only and does not constitute financial advice. I am not a licensed financial advisor. All investing involves risk of loss. Do your own research and consult a qualified professional before making investment decisions.

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Tags: Total Cost of Revenue, COGS, Financial Statements, Income Statement, Financial Education, Investing Basics

Why Biology Wants You to Go Broke The investing behavior that actually works goes against everything your brain is wired to do

by Michael Lamonaca, 4 February 2026

Your biology evolved to keep you alive in a world of predators and scarce resources—not to make you a successful investor. The same instincts that protected your ancestors from danger now sabotage every investment decision you make. When everyone is selling and prices are collapsing, your brain screams “danger—get out now!” When everyone is buying and prices are soaring, your brain screams “opportunity—don’t miss out!” This is precisely backwards from what actually works in investing. Buying when quality companies are selling at deep discounts feels terrifying. Doing nothing when prices are inflated and everyone else is buying feels like watching free money slip away. But these uncomfortable feelings—the terror of buying when others sell, the agony of sitting still when others buy—are exactly what separate successful long-term investors from everyone else. Your brain is fighting you every step of the way, and understanding why is the first step to fighting back.

The biological trap is simple: your brain prioritizes immediate survival over long-term prosperity. When stock prices collapse and panic spreads, your amygdala—the part of your brain responsible for fear responses—takes over. It sees everyone running for the exits and interprets this as mortal danger. In our evolutionary past, if everyone in the tribe was fleeing, you fled too or you died. Questioning the crowd meant becoming lunch for a predator. This response kept humans alive for millennia, but it destroys investment returns. Remember March 2020? Quality companies trading at 50% discounts. Your hands probably shook as you tried to click “buy.” That physical terror—heart racing, palms sweating—was your biology screaming danger. But that was exactly when buying worked. When a quality company’s stock drops 40% because the market is panicking, your biology doesn’t see an opportunity to buy an excellent business at a discount. It sees danger and demands you join the stampede to safety. The cheaper the price gets, the more terrifying it feels. Your ancestors survived by following the crowd away from threats. You go broke by following the crowd away from opportunities. On the flip side, when prices soar and euphoria spreads, a different biological trap activates: FOMO—fear of missing out. Your brain’s reward centers light up watching others get rich. Social proof, another survival mechanism, tells you that if everyone is buying, it must be safe and smart. Your dopamine system, designed to reward behaviors that help survival and reproduction, floods your brain with pleasure at the thought of joining the winning trade. Every story of someone making easy money feels like confirmation you should act now. But this is when prices are most dangerous and future returns are lowest. Your biology pushes you to buy exactly when you should be cautious or selling. The discomfort of sitting still while others profit feels unbearable—but it’s precisely the discipline that preserves wealth.

Successful investors fight biology, not because they’re smarter, but because they’ve trained themselves to recognize when instinct is the enemy. Warren Buffett’s famous advice to “be fearful when others are greedy and greedy when others are fearful” isn’t just a clever saying—it’s a battle plan against your own brain. When Buffett bought stocks during the 2008 financial crisis while everyone else was selling in terror, he wasn’t acting on instinct. He was acting against it. His biology was screaming the same warnings as everyone else’s, but he had trained himself to recognize that scream as a signal to buy, not sell. When he sat on cash during the late 1990s tech bubble while everyone else was getting rich on internet stocks, his FOMO was as powerful as anyone’s. But he recognized that feeling as a signal to stay cautious, not to chase. The same pattern repeated in March 2020—while panic selling consumed the market and quality businesses traded at massive discounts, successful investors forced themselves to buy despite the terror. This isn’t natural. It’s learned discipline built over decades of fighting the same biological impulses everyone has. The key insight: the discomfort you feel when buying during panic or sitting still during euphoria isn’t a warning you’re making a mistake—it’s confirmation you’re doing something right. If it feels comfortable and safe, you’re probably following the crowd. If it feels terrifying and lonely, you’re probably on the right track.

The practical reality is brutal: you cannot eliminate these biological responses, you can only recognize and override them. Your amygdala will still scream danger when prices collapse. Your dopamine system will still crave joining the winning trade. You cannot rewire millions of years of evolution. But you can build a decision-making framework that activates before your biology takes over. Write down your investment criteria when you’re calm and rational—what makes a quality business (strong return on equity, manageable debt levels, solid cash flow generation), what price would make it attractive, what circumstances would change your thesis. Then, when panic or euphoria strikes and your biology is screaming at you, you have a rational framework to reference instead of just your feelings. When a quality company you’ve researched drops to half its value because the market is panicking, your framework tells you to buy even as your instincts scream to sell. When prices are soaring and everyone is buying, your framework tells you to sit still even as your FOMO becomes physically painful. The discomfort never goes away—you just learn to recognize it as the cost of doing what actually works. Most investors fail not because they lack intelligence or information, but because they can’t tolerate the psychological pain of acting against the crowd. They buy when buying feels safe—after everyone else has already bought and prices are high. They sell when selling feels safe—after everyone else has already sold and prices are low. This guarantees poor returns. Biology wants you to survive to tomorrow. Successful investing requires sacrificing today’s comfort for tomorrow’s prosperity. These goals are incompatible, and biology usually wins.

When everyone is selling and quality companies are trading at deep discounts, your brain will tell you this is dangerous and foolish—that’s your signal to buy. When everyone is buying and prices have soared beyond any rational valuation, your brain will tell you you’re missing out on easy money—that’s your signal to sit still or sell. The discomfort you feel making these decisions isn’t evidence you’re wrong. It’s evidence you’re fighting biology and doing what actually works. Every successful long-term investor has learned this lesson: if investing feels comfortable, you’re probably following the crowd to mediocre returns or losses. If it feels terrifying and lonely, you’re probably on the path to building real wealth. Your biology evolved to keep you alive, not to make you rich. Recognizing when these goals conflict is the difference between investors who build wealth and those who watch it slip away following their instincts.

This analysis is for educational purposes only and does not constitute financial advice. I am not a licensed financial advisor. All investing involves risk of loss. Do your own research and consult a qualified professional before making investment decisions.

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Tags: Behavioral Finance, Investment Psychology, Market Psychology, Contrarian Investing, Investor Behavior, Financial Decision Making

Total Revenue: What it means and why it matters

by Michael Lamonaca 4 February 2026

Total revenue is the total money a business brings in from selling its products or services before any expenses are deducted. You’ll find it at the very top of the income statement, which is why it’s sometimes called the “top line.” Total revenue shows the total economic activity the business generates—the total amount customers paid for what the company offers during a specific period. It is the starting point of the financial story, representing the gross inflow of economic benefits before any costs of leather, labor, or rent are considered. While total revenue indicates the scale of the business and market demand, it is distinct from profit or cash on hand. In the context of an annual statement, it represents the cumulative gross sales achieved over the entire year. It is the raw material from which all other figures on the income statement are derived.

Let me show you what total revenue means using Marco, a shoemaker who crafts premium leather shoes in his workshop and sells them through his retail shops. Marco’s business has been running for 11 years. Last year, Marco sold 2,000 pairs of shoes across his four locations at an average price of $200 per pair. His total revenue is calculated as 2,000 pairs × $200 = $400,000. This $400,000 is his total revenue—the aggregate amount collected from customers before paying for the workshop, the craftsmen, or the storefronts. If a customer buys a pair of loafers for $200, the entire $200 is recorded as total revenue the moment the sale is finalized and the shoes are delivered. Looking at his history, Marco’s total revenues have increased on average per year 6.13% in the last 10 years and 3.92% in the last 5 years. If Marco’s total revenue increases from one year to the next, it reflects an increase in the number of shoes sold, an increase in the price per pair, or a combination of both. Total revenue alone does not determine if Marco’s business is sustainable, as he could generate high revenue while his total expenses exceed that amount.

When analyzing total revenue in a company’s financial statements, the data shows specific patterns of business activity and volume. The movement of this figure over multiple periods reveals whether the total inflow of money is growing, remaining stable, or declining. Total revenue is a measure of a company’s ability to move inventory or provide services at a specific price point within its market. It is often compared to the performance of similar businesses in the same industry to provide context on the company’s relative size and activity level. Financial statements distinguish between recurring total revenue from core business operations and one-time inflows that may come from the sale of assets or secondary activities. Total revenue is important, but it must be viewed with the rest of the voices in the financial statements to understand the full picture. The calculation of total revenue accounts for the volume of units sold multiplied by the realized price, and it serves as the primary figure from which all direct and indirect expenses are subsequently subtracted.

Understanding total revenue helps you see if customers actually want what a business sells and whether demand is growing or shrinking. It’s the foundation of every other number on the financial statements—everything else flows from how much the business can sell and at what price.

This content is for educational purposes only and does not constitute financial advice. I am not a licensed financial advisor. All investing involves risk of loss. Do your own research and consult a qualified professional before making investment decisions.

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Tags: Total Revenue, Financial Statements, Income Statement, Financial Education, Investing Basics, Top Line

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Income statement: Understanding the Income Statement: The Story of Marco’s Business

Understanding the Income Statement: The Story of Marco’s Business: What it means and why it matters

by Michael Lamonaca, 3 February 2026

The Income Statement is a financial motion picture that captures a company’s performance over a specific window of time—be it a month, a quarter, or a year (we will deal with the annual IS). To truly understand how a business is performing, you have to look past the physical storefronts and into the logic of its numbers. The Income Statement is the primary tool for this. It captures a company’s performance over a specific window of time. Unlike other documents that show what a business owns at a single moment, this statement shows how much value the business is actively creating over a duration. It reveals the operational efficiency of a company and is the place where a business model is shown to work or fail in the real world. By stripping away the complexity, the Income Statement tells a simple story: how much money came in, how much went out, and what was left for the owners. It is the definitive scorecard for any commercial enterprise, providing the raw data of growth, margins, and profitability.

Let me show you what the Income Statement means using Marco, a shoemaker who crafts premium leather shoes in his workshop and sells them through his retail shops. Marco is a master cobbler who produces high-end leather shoes and sells them through four retail shops he owns. By following Marco’s business, we can see that the Income Statement is essentially a record of a simple struggle: the battle between what comes in and what goes out. The logic of the statement follows a “downward” flow. It begins with the total energy the business generated—the sales at Marco’s four registers—and then systematically subtracts every cost required to make those sales happen. This includes the direct costs of his leather, the overhead of running his boutiques, and the obligations he has to the bank and the government. For Marco, this document is his most honest advisor. It tells him if his passion for shoemaking is translating into a sustainable enterprise. If Marco sees that he is selling thousands of boots but his final profit is shrinking, the Income Statement acts as a map to find the leak. It helps him distinguish between the “vanity” of high sales and the “sanity” of actual profit. In future contents, we will deal with the individual voices of the income statement, breaking down each line item from the very top to the very bottom.

The Income Statement displays the relationship between the numbers, showing how a business moves from its starting revenue to its final net income. This involves recording the financial results of the business compared to previous periods. The statement accounts for all sources of income, including core operations and one-time events like the sale of equipment. Every expense is categorized and subtracted in a specific order: starting with direct production costs, moving through administrative overhead and interest, and ending with taxes. This sequential deduction shows exactly where the generated revenue is allocated before it reaches the bottom line. This structure allows for a clear view of how much of each dollar earned is consumed by the various costs of running the business. It documents the financial reality of the company’s position relative to its competitors and the broader market.

Understanding the Income Statement helps you see through the “noise” of a company’s marketing and understand the cold, hard reality of its performance. It is the foundation of fundamental analysis, allowing you to see if a business is a wealth-creator or a wealth-destroyer. It allows one to spot developments long before they show up in the news, providing a view of how the business fits into the bigger picture. In future contents, we will deal with the individual voices of the income statement, breaking down each line item from the very top to the very bottom.

This content is for educational purposes only and does not constitute financial advice. I am not a licensed financial advisor. All investing involves risk of loss. Do your own research and consult a qualified professional before making investment decisions.

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Tags: Financial Education, Income Statement, Profit and Loss, Accounting Basics, Business Management, Financial Literacy, Marco the Shoemaker.