A choas of cries during making sketches blurs a little my mind and I’m serfing net instead of writing myself.

Morning was quite as I didn’t attend two first lessons. I wrote in my bed and then did some english. When I went outside it was so windy as it hadn’t been long time before. All the night din sounds had been surrounding the houses with moaning trees what beated each walls. Midday I tred to the college like I tred to the mointain’s summit. And when I came to the workshop my pressure descended downright. It begun an usual stir of loud speaking people who paces to and fro with glue and paper, cups and tea. I toned my leave with slight tinge of pink. Then F came to make a stage with our usual sitter. He had done it beauty and hard to draw. Listening music of balanscu quartet two lessons came invisible. When we started to make sketches girls started to talk and talks was loud and senseless. Posing I often closed my eyes and thought my reflections. At my easel it is sight of David’s star. I separated from reality as my mind protested about rubbish and to my surprised found an air inside.


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