February 1

Yesterday—so the local radio—eighty missiles and forty shells hit the town. And today till half past one pm 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 (the Underground mass media) Azeri tanks had captured the 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 of rent for this month.

One page from ULYSSES. No Yoga.

A rare treat – all the family had a 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 the day before. 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 my agenda.

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