Meets

Now it’s raining. Drops are knocking at the metal roof and water is leaking out of tubes at the every cornes. Electric light makes stay at home very warm. Mom is cleaning up and I’m reading and cleaning something too. Plan to go to the village to paint the roof has evidently failed and I decided to devote this day to reading and writing. Last days was filled with impressions I haven’t written about yet.
The first meet was at friday and was expected to be. I took my pictures to return them into the fund of the college. The strange feel I say to carry pictures the way I went the whole five years. Such a deception of senses. Eyes said I was going to study, mind asserted I was far away of being study, hands felt that they really had forgotten how did it hard to carry pictures throught the bridge.
Inside there was no change (evidently it’s insufficient time). The same watchman and the same walls. My diploma picture is hanging in front of the staircase and almost the first thing what is shown. I was amazed as it was liked me with all incomleteness. I came to the composition workshop, left the bag, hairdressed, took a breath and went to look for Br. Immediately the first familiar face I met was DR. She was not concealing intrested in my condition. Her ear had been even turned to me to catch the new information. I was in hurry to say key words. Then she led me to Br. He was smiling and I think really glad to see me. But to his approach I wasn’t ready. He made sat in his study and asked me about exams. Certain information. I should say to addition that my own mood was perfectly optimistic and I couldn’t be so sad as he was. Really his face became gloomy and wrinkled. It was a surprise for me. I tryed to be self-organised and make an impression (but my inner condition was and still is such) of confident notion about future. Then some old women came to take his attention and we had fine good-bye.
The second meet was yesterday. I had been working at mom’s shop and read the book when immediately I saw a familiar face in front of me. She was Darya from the fourth course. Her voice was softy and friendly as the jacket was knitted and warm. Until printers made her photos we discussed our lives and plans. She searchs a job in children centers and wants to make cartoons. And she still lives in this town as her boyfriend decided to be here. She went away and I left with my rigid impression that I should left work to practice and improve my basic skills and understanding.

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