20th of August, London
Faggot punk out of the station, when back home. Italian.
Found affordable tickets and hotel. On Saturday I'm going to France. Having known the English, even the French seem likeable. Maybe I'll bring back some good wine. More than an holiday, an introspective journey. Asked to Barbara to come with me, offered to pay for her. She dismissed. May be better.
I opened that email at least 10 times, today. It doesn't change, what do I think to see new? Tomorrow I must open that link. Postponing doesn't make sense, does it?
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Foud an old small diary I used to write down some notes. Thoughts written two years ago on 11th of August. She was in South America. Seeking what, I don't know. Herself, she said. Reading words I could have written yesterday. Better leaving alone. People around me are too different from me myself. I'm out of place. 22:20. Time to turn the lght off and to sleep. The alarm doesn't forgive.
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PS Found an old farwell letter. How many times she said farewell to me?
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