I was guilty of a sort of casual, lazy, bias; my Norwegian acquaintance, however, was an actual racist.
25 мая – Рай. Рай это место. Место, где ничего нет. Ничего никогда не происходит.
Были периоды в те ранние дни, когда час становился совершенно невыносимым своим абсолютным небытием.
29th Aug – Oh, yeah, And I have met my destiny in quite a similar way
Stav Danaos was reading the weather today. Reading. Not telling. He’s a bit proprietorial about it all isn’t he? Perhaps he takes his job title, weather forecaster, a bit too liderally*. It doesn’t come from a magic well into which only he can see, you know. For my part I prefer the pagaillique* approach of the ITV-casters, with the exception, obviously, of that woman who rides the donkey as a route to fame – she who posits herself as a specialist forecaster of weather at horse racing venues. Her colleagues though, are good because the know that they’re common and act like the weather’s something that has just happened to them. Which, of course, it has. It may sound harsh to put it that way, but I’m allowed, I was once a trainee pig-iron trader.
April 5th – The concrete and the clay, beneath my feet begins to crumble.
Almost everything that everyone else says is not worth the air with which it is spoken, obviously.
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