The first day of exams. Composition.

So, these three days went away. Maybe that was the hardest part of the exam process and I certainly should record it here timely because now it all seems far away from the present moment. However, I try.
It was a rush morning of friday: I couldn’t fell asleep the whole night and the moment the alarm clock rang I got up like a troop. Then I run even less than usual. At the undergroung it was noisy and crowdy but I closed my eyes to find an axes inside. The entrance of the institute was crowded with lots of applicants, I went by them easily and upstaired. At the hall girls sharpened their pencils, so did I. Though it was simple to stay calm outside the nervious enviroment, I felt some stress at the crowd in front of the door. It was stupid by them to orginise us that way (it’s a different kind of talk) I was the only person with salad and cardboard. Moreover it was physically hard to keep everything in hands we found out the workshops not ready for work. Can you imagine this? Time was up, but we had to spend it on removing easels and stools. So, I shouldn’t be criticital about them. While I set the workplace the Master asked me all the information about education and that was the only thing which he said me.
The process itself was hard for me. I tryed to modify the habits into the “new” demands: to show mood, light and shadow, interior, exterior. I’d chosen the theme “Interesting job” and didn’t realised that understood it ironically while they meant it seriously. This is why (and because they asked to base on own observations) I drawn the post office’s routine, slowness of fishermen at the ice, boredom at the electronic store but dynamic of tennis player. I did that all in a rush without real breaks or dinner, without noticing other people. However, the teacher who came there so often distracked me a bit. I remember that at the college we all began to mix colours instead of real painting while the teacher was behind. Even the toilet pauses were short and nervious. To the end of the time I was persuaded that my sheet was terrible. I saw just one of other people but strained myself.
The way back Nastya Ch. talked hyped-up. I couldn’t keep up with her energy level. I went to the Tretyakovskya and ate my salad at the bench. I remember how sadly my thoughts was. Gloomy I was going on the road in search of coffee or cake to relieve myself. But at once it showered and the option of the underground seemed me great.
At the Moscow Book Store it was the book presentation. The literator who was to come (Dmitry Bykov) was known to me by his literature lectures and horrific likeness with my dad. I was sitting there again and just observe clearly Moscow people: girl with real Moschino coat but speaking culturally and some guys showing off with some connections. However, I was sitting there again, but quiet upset and frozen. He was late ten minutes but appeared in the crowd with a book in hand as he had just bought it. He seemed an ordinary man in shorts and windbreaker, more grey haired than on public photos. His manners looked drowsy while the voice sounded vital.
The talk was wide, he touched the points of the Internet, revolution as a surgery, about new generation ahead and the hardship of making career in the present situation. It was fun, educating and sometimes vague for me (without literature education). I couldn’t make out who are that authour they were speaking about. I went out at the beginning of autograph session as I wasn’t to buy and read the book.
The air was more fresh as it had been after the meeting with Pozner. I ate the soap at the cafe and was totally inspired for everything ahead.

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