TimeStamp:2020/07/07 11:16:25.000, Protocol:smb, Destination:

I change. That I’m arid, and meaningless. The impression is that he thinks it’s a useless beauty and a bit precious and empty. He doesn’t know “for what” I write — that’s the impression. It seems to him (I think) that I don’t have neither ideas, from where to start, nor subjects to go toward. In the first book I still seem “interested”, then everything is the same.