пускай с моею мордою
   печатных книжек нет,
  вот эта подпись гордая
есть мой автопортрет



рукописи не горят!.. ...в интернете ...   

head header

February 1.

Yesterday—so the local radio—eighty missiles and forty shells hit the town.

And today till half past one p.m. I was again busy modeling a handcart.

I tried to use the wheels from a toy truck but their axis made of wire couldn't bear the weight of 40-liter flask filled with water.

Rather calm a day it was – only one attack.

They say (in Underground mass media) Azeri tanks had captured Hramort village setting a lot of houses on fire. Yet, the attackers were fought back and fled sustaining heavy casualties.

Sashic dropped in when I was lunching alone to ask how we were getting on.

I paid to Nasic, the landlady, fifty-monet rent for this month.

One page from ULYSSES.
No Yoga.

A rare treat – all the family had supper together.

Then I went for the water-walk. On the way back home there occurred a minor break down.

<!-- Well, the first American space shuttle also lost fifteen thermo-scales in its maiden flight. -->

However, I managed to bring water home without so crushing a strain as it was yesterday. On the way I saw a great fire in the downhill town outskirts.

Washing the reachable parts of mine in the tub is the last item on the agenda today.

So I have the right to say
"good night".

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