My nerves are really weak. Just yesterday I was so enjoyful, creating two studies with no time and with so much pleasure. But today I’ve flown off the handle of days. Xerox didn’t work, children took me in a round till I’s painting. The book I read says me: Artists need a place and time only for them but nobody else. This is that. I’m in rage. I hate children, hate green colour, high prices, visa regime, my clothes and boots, my hair cut, this flat, my life. I’m repeating just yesterday I loved all of this and even more. But sometimes you feel weariness being the same in the same place (even having presicely knownledge of timely of this), meeting so local I mean narrow-mind people. Sometimes I need a break. My nerves I really weak and I must to take it.