February 12

A general meeting occurred at the Club (the former Editorial House). Hamlet Somewhatian, an MP, the would-be minister of information, (...judging by his sturdy, thick-soled boots...) visited the institution to check the needs and potentials of the paper.

After the meeting was over I asked Alyosha, the paper's House Manager, for the entrance key in order to make a duplicate (the one I had produced from the modeling clay impression was not doing the trick).

I explained to him that I had some work to do in the Renderers' but the Editorial House was oftener closed than otherwise. And he gave me the key not just for duplicating but for keeping it!

After everybody had left, Wagrum turned up as always late but freshly shaven and highly optimistic about the current war situation.

At home I finished the duplicate key.

One and a half page from Joyce translated.

Sashic came bringing a jar of lard-suet and took away with him the last bottle of vodka we stored. Now, with our supply of alcohol gone through, I'm wholly clean and free of spirits.

A neighbor from the opposite side of the street had hired a tractor with trailer and ventured to looting Malu-Balu but phedayeesPHEDAYEE —
     (Armenian borrowing from Greek) "freedom fighter". there sent him back, "Where were you while we were shedding our blood?"

Beno, a crony of Sashic's, brought from the captured village two furniture sets and a piano. He's a veteran freedom fighter, a Sergeant already, besides, he has four daughters to be provided with the hope-chests.

At six pm, a few explosions scared the family and sent them off to the Underground.

Yoga. Supper. The water-walk looms ahead.

Last night my "Good Night" was followed by a good deal of shelling and yet I can't think of anything else but wishing – Good Night.