The fourth day at Moscow

This day I begun with the run through the rainy central streets. There wasn’t so much people as usual and I could hear my thoughts. It was interesting to find some theatres and valleys this way. Some people in black run too but faded away quite fast. I went to the hostel wet. A hearty breakfast with coffee, my call to Nastya Ch. about the storyboards and still rain. Nastya was actually woken up by my call and reproached me by forgetfulness. She amazed me with her neglectful tone. I’d got that we aren’t to be close.
I stretched the paper and drunk another cup of coffee. When I begun to make the sketches the excitement came to me. I did many of them then I researched the topic on Pinterest and found so much awesome interiors. That was the spirit of big influencial ideas, the spirit of something eternal in ending life.


But after that something changed and I sharply needed to go somewhere. Actually there was a plan to go to the conversational club. But at the beginning I went to the Children’s central shop. The first wasn’t the one I needed, but the second turned out to be that one. There was four floors and the view point at the roof. I went there. It was foggy and fresh after the rain. I could breath an air despite any laughing teenagers. At the shop there was the beautiful stained-glass dome and the floor.
I felt a bit confused because of the strange assident I had before enter. Upstairing at the pedestrian subway I felt traction of the bag and fastly turned back. My bag was opened and the wallet in full view, two not russian girls immediately started talking on their language making impression of looking for something at the streets. It was a moment of danger and abomination.
Having time for walking on the streets I could observe the same kind of hurrying people, coffee shops and cars. Emotionally I felt irritated and already tired by this town. That’s kind of loneliness and weakness. There are so much distracking things that I don’t absolutely sure what is the best to do. Going at different places and making photos or sitting at the room with the storyboards and the textbooks. Which way is good?
The another putting me out thing is the course. Yesterday it was drawing and maybe I could write a play on the topic of the decietful studying process of academical art. I was upset, really upset. I could find a place for myself among such immature students and unprofessional teachers. The teacher said such a shame nonsence that I couldn’t take his following words seriously. But his advice wasn’t the valuable advice, it was the way of destroying the name of academical drawing. As I see that was the lesson of academical, not creative drawing. But I quess he cannot draw properly himself. Such a terrible disclosure!
But that time I went to the hostel again to plan my week and be productive anyway. I know I can and have many opportunities to do things.


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