…i'm taking the iron cover off thinking about tactic and strategic benefits of long nails possessing. From the one hand if i had had such i would have taken plates quickly, effectively and even painlessly. From the other hand if i had done the target operation even just once in a such way, with help of nails, i wouldn’t surely have possessed any nails at al. i’m standing in the darkness repeating manipulations carefully and blindly despite facing some problem with painlessness, a little funny problem with its definite absence. i’m thinking about if the life could be completely and colorfully described just as energy demanding process of funny recursions searching. So, i’m sad to say clear recursion doesn’t seem to happen properly today in this chaos of transforming automatic functions into semi-automatic.

…i’m reading “the exit” in the white wood door from inside. i’m sitting in the iron ottoman in the room 2x2x4 m with new large window, with blockade stove in the three bricks and resin carpet, with white–and-lime walls, with industrial illumination design, with stepladder in the corner, with that heavy thick glass strips everywhere, with angular equipment covered by leather cases or crispy cloudy packages. “The exit” has been written with stencil and black aerosol, with passion and tenderness. i could find exactly the same in the adjacent room, absolutely dark and with black curtains on the door.
What can i change with my aching pronounced despair under this disturbing air? What question can i answer? The revelation is now, and it’s all fine, by the way.

… my congratulations to me, i’ve find an absolutely suitable proveb, antique, i should say. Navigare necesse est, vi¬ vere non est necesse. Hi, my workaholic sadness