Sunny day with new mood and point of view on my weekdays. It was lasting drawing of a man with one pause for dinner. I was looking throgh an album of Goya and academic drafts at the same time. Too I was in touch with daily chatter and arts world of my mind and senses. Really I don’t lose myself, but this meaningless noise of girls covers my eyes as a mist. Rattles in the ears. Because of this endless chatter evening painting was not so productive as it could be. En route to bus stop I’ve just listened the book and looked at the farther side where houses’s already warmed up. It was so colourful enening as my inside was sorrow about the dream about farther. I’ve seen how I was running at home (sunny day too), what kitchen was with my farther, who cooked his scrambled eggs and welcomed me.