Recently I write so little that it makes me ashamed. I do my “morning pages” and sometimes its enough for me.
I just have gone frome fifth tennis lesson. An hour before start I thought to stay at home, watch one more series of AbbeyD and do not set me at advance. Last lesson I finished with muddy sense of loneliness. Today there was another teacher who replaced our one. As always it was full of little scuples and awkward motions. Like I’m a little girl in school gym where it absolutely obvious that I’m none in sport. But there as always now I said myself words of inspiration and forced me more marry than I was. New feeding – how fanny, relay – o please, may we leave without? Actually my own efforts to smile and speak with normal voice took me more than all I can recieve at home. And yes I think this boy is pretty but no more I don’t feel anything but amiability. And going back to home I song a song till purple sky gradually turning into night. I like summer evening and nobody can’t bother me to feel it.


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