I feel like I have nothing to say, but not to worry, my drive to type away prevails. I always get hot when I think about what I’m going to jot down. Is that strange? When I told my granddad that I like to write, he gave me an interesting tip —
You just write. . . the thoughts will come to you, all right.
I like this approach. Gives hope and courage.
* * *
Autumn is finally here, with the weather suddenly dropping down from the steady 20s to a whopping 16 degrees. University is right around the corner. I had a deep, lucid dream early this morning, and in it, I thought about how when I’ll wake up, I’ll instantly forget it. Indeed, I woke up and forgot the whole damn dream and all that one can acquire in such dreams. All that’s left is an aftertaste, which reminds me about what I thought about yesterday. Yesterday, I watched a Soviet film with my dad. It was a lighthearted comedy—Я Шагаю по Москве—one of few that I really enjoy watching. When you watch Soviet films, you see faces. They are different faces, with qualities that come by rarely, these days. They are chaste and pure and kindhearted. Even the bad guys.
$root - whoami think-tank troublemaker
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