nights at the turntable

no need for self-denial. in exactly nine days time it's gonna be my birthday. i can't help get all gloomy this time of the year. if i tried to be more accurate, i'd say i'm pretty much a gloomy, melancholic and nonsensical being. always thinking about goodbyes and loss and suffering. i'm such a masochist. may i be kafka's samsa reencarnation? i hope not. bugs disgust me. so, like i said, the eighteenth of july i will turn eighteen. i'm overwhelmed. and that's probably and understatement. i want my childhood back. right now. i long for my reckless, carefree, narrow-minded character. i'm ravenous for simple joy. look at my unreal and imaginary outdoors dress. isn't it lovely?

it's been a while since i last cared for sketching. all i do is drawing loops every now and then at my three-eyed class-like sheets of paper while a fair range of teachers pretend to convey significative lectures. above, you'll see my favourite unreal and imaginary outdoors gown. it's actually a copycat i made out of a french book i found at home. the book is in fact a dictionary for children with simple explanations on the meaning of basic words. it's rather curious how the truth finally unravels. one thing is always a wide variety of other things, as if expected to be reckoned in this utter chaos. no that i care.

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