To be arriving across the town with the picture of my little amoursness on tennis. Just a view and all preoccupations of the day flushed away. But I still bad pupil who has never learnt to dance. So much deals to do, to be the best, but I feel nessecary to sit in a minibus with music, not with texts. I don’t hear its on background of my thoughts.
It was the closing of student works’ exhibition. No my work there. I sat so slack and dim listening words of praise and repeating something like “I’m OK, everything will be excellent. I can.” But it hadn’t helped me to overcome myself to go to talk and joke with secular laugh. My thinks are spinning around diploma picture. Even yesterday’s night I’ve just a bit of thought about it to spread into my mind.
I was so happy on weekends as my own world expelled this one. Task to keep it inner.