Ka tikai mana kleita mainīsies /// That only my dress will change

Šobrīd ir ļoti jauki.

Es savos akadēmiskajos nolūkos lasu tik mīlīgas lietas. 19.gs. otrās puses franču dzejnieki, kad raksta proziņu, ir apburoši. Bodlērs par drēbēm un kosmētiku spriež, un šobrīd man repertuārā ir Mallarmē La Dernière Mode, kur viņš kā De Pontī kundze 8lappušu žurnālīšos stāsta un klāsta, kas šobrīd modē un kādi aksesuāri šim brīdim paši neaizstājamākie. Bez Margaritas De Pontī viņš laipni pieņēma arī dažu citu sieviešu identitātes, jo ne jau viena pati žurnāliste visu žurnālīti pierakstīs. De P. kundze bija pieredzes bagāta, un šķiet, rūpējās par ģimenes dzīvi, Mis Satīna toties informēja par aizrobežu aktualitātēm. Un platoniskie dialogi, kur Mallarmē risina inscinētas koresponces ar lasītājiem, tie arī piemīlīgi. Viņš ir visai jūsmīgs, liek diezgan daudz izsaukuma zīmju (droši vien tāpēc, ka zem sievietes pseidonīma, un tas uzliek zināmu slogu), un komentētāji domā, ka pat, ja tas izskatās ironiski, tad sirds dziļumos viņam mode un drēbes noteikti patīk, jo tik lielu sajūsmu pat ar ironiju nenomaskēsi.

^^^^^

Right now it's pretty nice.

For my academic purposes I'm now reading such lovely things. The French poets from the second half of the 19th century, when writing prose, are adorable. Baudelaire discusses clothes and cosmetics; currently I'm having La Dernière Mode by Stéphane Mallarmé in my repertoire where he spreads his word under the name of Madame De Ponty in 8-page fashion journals, narrating what's actual right now and which are the indispensable must-have items at this moment. Besides Marguerite De Ponty he kindly acquired a couple more female identities, since to write down the whole journal for one single journalist, that would have been too harsh. Madame de P. was a well experienced lady, who, so it seems, was leading family life and took care of children and husband, whereas Miss Satin was able to inform all the curious readers about foreign novelties. And the Platonic dialogues, where Mallarmé develops staged correspondences between readers and journalist, their simply awesome. He's refreshingly enthusiastic, puts quite a few exclamation marks here and there (my guess is, it's because of the female pseudonym which adds its fair share of pressure). Commentators generally hold a view that, even though the writing sometimes might seem slightly ironic or overdone, at the bottom of heart he has to like fashion and clothing, since enthusiasm this big cannot be disguised.

Stéphane Mallarmé

Photographies

Photographies de Mme Méry Laurent.

II
Blanche japonaise narquoise
Je me taille dès mon lever
Pour robe un morceau bleu turqouise
Du ciel à qoui je fais rêver.

V
Très fidèle à mes amitiés
Dans un bleu reflet qui s'argente
Sous un, si vous en doutiez !
Que ma robe seule est changeante.

VII
Je ne sais pourqoui je vêts
Ma robe de clair de lune
Moi qui, déesse, pouvais
Si bien me passer d'aucune.


^^^^^

II

White Japanese mischievous

I cut myself as soon as I rise

For a dress a piece of the blue turquoise

Sky of which I dream.

V

Always true to my friendships

Clothed in a silvery blue reflected light

Would you for any reason doubt me!

That only my dress will change.

VII

I do not know why I keep wearing

My moonlight-colored dress

Since I, a goddess, might

Very well wear none.

Aristokrātiskums /// Aristocracy

Pēdējās dienās ir Elizabetes svētki, atkal nodeva rojāliskam britiskumam.

Skatījos viņs pārraidi, bet, atklāti sakot, biju vīlusies, jo koncertā nudien no aristokrātiskuma bija vien pāris pilītes, ko no slapjām drēbēm izgriezt. Bija kaut kas, kas izklausījās pēc popielas, vai karaokes, un vēl dziedāja lokans boyband's, kuriem darbība bija ar skubu jāpārtrauc, jūtot neizbēgamo 2000o tuvošanos. Bet šis izskatījās tik jauns un sprauns, ka viņa eksistencei attaisnojamības nav.

Nepietiekami aistokrātiski. Taču, kas mani patiesi iepriecināja, bija apstāklis, ka Elizabetei par godu notika pikniks ar lūgtiem viesiem. Karaliskais pikniks, kur nu vēl burvīgāk! Es tādā labprāt piedalītos. Godīgi sakot, gan jebkādā piedalītos. Tie parastie jau arī ir labi; lai cik glīši būtu 1900. gada meiteņu skolas pikniki Valentīna dienā, labi ir beigās arī nenomirt.
Ja jūs neiebilstat, es labprāt uzskaitītu karaliskā piknika groza saturu:

• Britu lauku dārza aukstā zupa
• Tējā kūpināts skotu lasis
• Diamond Jubilee vista
• Veģetārais ēdiens: šampinjonu parfē

• Svaigi ceptas maizītes
• Sviests
• Sezonas dārzeņu uzkodas

• Citronu un ķimeņu Madeiras kūciņa
• Šokolādes kūciņa
• Sandringemas zemeņu drumstalmaize

• Čedaras un sarkanais Leičesteras siers
• Auzu biskvīti
• Augļu čatnijs

Plusiņi :

• 12 salvetes
• Caurspīdīgas plastmasas galda piederumi un servjete
• Diamond Jubilee pončo
• Karogs

Un akurāt tajā pašā dienā es ieraudzīju pirmo un vienīgo piknika grozu, kas vairāk vai mazāk (drīzāk jau mazāk, bet man nešķiet, ka varu atļauties būt izvēlīga šobrīd) atbilda manām piknika grozu prasībām. Jebkurā gadījumā, sliktākajā gadījumā būs vienkārši vīna dzeršana brīvā dabā - man tagad ir kaste, kurā pārvietot vīna vai šampanieša pudeles. ieraudzīju veikalā, meklējot pavisam citu kasti, un sapratu, ka alkohola pudeļu pārnēsāšana līdz šim ir apgrūtinājusi manu pastāvēšanu ar savu nešarmantumu. Smuki saģērbies, sajūta tāda smalka, bet tad kaut kāda pudele, kas jāpārvieto!! Gandrīz vai jākļūst par atturībnieku, sastopoties ar šādiem izaicinājumiem.

Šodien bija diezgan daudz aristokrātiskuma. Ir jūnija sākums un joprojām, ir pavēss, un tam visam nāk klāt zināma ekskluzivitāte un aristokrātiskums. Ir vasara, bet drīkst saģērbties. Forši. Šodien vilku blūzi ar augstu apkakli, tur arī drusku tā pareizā pieskaņa.

Un šodien, klausoties savu kursabiedru bakalaura aizstāvēšanas, sapratu, ka studēt filozofiju ir tik sasodīti aristokrātiski, nē, bet tiešām! Ne tikai tāpēc, ka filozofu akadēmiķi vīrieši ir iecienījuši džemperus ar augsto apkakli, tā visa atturīgā un attālinātā noskaņa. Reizēm jau liekas, ka pietrūkst zināma dzīvīguma un dzīvelības, bet tad atkal, tik skaisti un nedaudz pat izredzēti. Un man nudien šodien nedaudz sametās žēl, ka nākamgad man  tā visa nebūs. Man ļoti mīļa pasniedzēja apsēdās priekšā, izņēma no iepakojuma  savu jauno estētikas žurnālu un iedeva man paskatīties. Žurnāls bija patiešām jauks, un es tajā brīdī gribēju, lai tā būtu arī nākamgad. Ko nu vairs, pati vainīga.

Uznāca tik sasodīta nostalģija par visiem maniem kursabiedriem, man viņi tiešām šausmīgi patīk. Es nedomāju, ka man, ja arī es studēšu kādreiz maģistros (un es varētu studēt maģistros; studēšana ir jauka nodarbe, un ar patīkamu uzslāņojumu), būs tik jaukiņi un mīļi kursabiedri. Sesijas un bakalauru laikos visi interenetā kopīgi cieš un psiho, un met vienu pēc otras tik jestras piezīmītes.

Domāju par visiem šiem trijiem gadiem, kas vadīti filozofijas paspārnē, un tie ir bijuši ļoti labi gadi. Man patika. Un ir tik žēli, ka nu viss. Man gan vēl rēķini nav noslēgti, vēl bakalaurs jāuzraksta, un laikam šitā izlaiduma man nebūs, bet visa tā kursabiedru / fakultātes daļa ir garām. Tagad kaut kā gribas rakstīt to darbu, un pienācīgi viņu uzrakstīt. Lai nav nožēlojams sūds, lai ir zināms aristokrātisks elitārisms.

^^^^^

Last days have been dedicated to Queen Elizabeth II celebrations, so I dedicate this post to the Royal and the British, again.

I was watching the Diamond Jubilee broadcast, but I have to admit I was disappointed. This concert contained drops of nobleness in only such amounts that they could easily be wrung out of wet clothing. It rather rang of karaoke, and there was this springy boy band which should have stopped its musical activities awaiting the inevitable approaching of 2000s. Although this one looked so young and lively, one simply could not justify their existence.

Not enough nobleness. What I did like though, was the fact that Buckingham Palace gardens held picnic with invited guests. The Royal picnic, is there anything more adorable! I would love to take part in one like this. Frankly speaking, would love to join any picnic. The common ones are not that bad either; be the girls school's St. Valentine's Day picnics in 1900s ever so pretty, it is nice not to die at the end.

If you don't mind, I would like to share the content of Buckingham Palace Picnic Hamper:

• Chilled British country garden soup
• Tea-smoked Scottish salmon
• Diamond Jubilee chicken
• Vegetarian option: mushroom parfait

• Fresh bread rolls
• Country Life butter
• Crunchy seasonal crudités

• Lemon and caraway Madeira cupcake
• Chocolate indulgence cupcake
• Sandringham strawberry crumble crunch

• Waitrose West Country farmhouse cheddar and red Leicester
• Duchy Originals from Waitrose oaten biscuits
• Duchy Originals from Waitrose harvest chutney

Extras:

• 12 Hand wipes
• Clear plastic cutlery and napkin
• Diamond Jubilee poncho
• Union flag

Right at the same day I saw the first and only picnic hamper which more or less (rather less, but I don't think I can afford to be picky right now) met my aspirations. Anyways, in the worst case there will be just drinking in greenery - now I have got box for carrying wine or Champagne bottles. I spotted it whilst looking for another box, and immediately realized that transporting alcohol has been a burden with its anti-charm. You dress up nicely, feel quite fine, but then there is a disturbing bottle which is supposed to be transported!! One almost have to consider abstaining, when meeting such challenges.

Today there was quite a lot of nobleness. It is the beginning of June and it is still pretty chilly, and it has certain exclusiveness and aristocratic characteristics. It is summer now, but one is allowed to bundle up, isn't that nice. Today I wore a high blouse, which has a hint of nobleness, I think.

And today while listening to classmates thesis presentations, I came to realize that studying philosophy, it is so aristocratic, I mean, seriously, it really is! Not only because of academic male philosophers' liking toward high-neck sweaters; because of all the reserved and detached mood. Sometimes I do find lack of vitality and liveliness thee, but then again, it is something so beautiful and pretty selected. And today I really was sorry about not having any of this the next year. A very dear professor of mine sat today in the front of me, took a brand new Aesthetics journal out of her handbag and gave it to me to have a look on it. That was such a nice journal, and I right away wished to have something like this also the next year. Can't do anything about it now, and can only blame myself for it.

An then some blamed nostalgia about all my classmates arrived, I really do like them heaps. I don't think, even if I at some point of time will be studying for a Master's degree (and I might be doing that; it is a nice thing to do, to study, it has some pleasant vibes), I will ever have such nice and sweet classmates. During the hard times of exams and thesis everyone suffers and raves on the Internet together, and throws one funny remark after another.

I think about those three years spent under the wing of philosophy, and they have been very good years. I liked them. It is a pity that it's all there was. My scores have not been settled yet, I've still got a thesis to write, and I won't be having this graduation, still all that classmate/ faculty part is gone. And now I even want to write that thesis, and to write it more or less decently. So that is isn't some miserable piece of shit, so that there is some tiny aristocratic elitism.

Katrīna, baltā blūzē un zīmuļsvārkos, ar mūsu pēdējo zīmīti kā kartīti /// Katrina, in white blouse and pencil skirt, with our very last class chit, which looks like a postcard

Elīna, baltā blūzē un plisētos svārkos, ar mūsu pēdējo zīmīti, tik smuku kā kartīti /// Elina, in white blouse and pleated skirt, with our last classsroom chit, as pretty as a postcard

Aberdeen

kā man patīk tā māja /// how I love that house

Duthie Park

River Dee

2. aprīlis, vakars, drusku snieg /// April 2, evening, still little bit snowing

Tajā pašā 2. aprīlī (ir sasodīti grūti uzrakstīt "aprīlis" ar pirmo reizi, sanāk vai nu "parīlis", vai "arīlis", un ne pirmo reizi tā atgadās) vakarā aizgāju uz klasiskās dejas nodarbību. Ļoti sen, apmēram 6 gadus nebiju bijusi klasiskās dejas nodarbībās. Toreiz man patika tās sestdienu priekšpusdienas ar vienmēr vienu un to pašu ņipro klaviermūziku, ritmā veiktiem vingrinājumiem un centieniem saglabāt punktiņu griezienu laikā. Punktiņš parasti man pazuda, vai arī es vienkārši neaprobežojos ar tikai vienu vienīgu punktiņu, taču viss pārējais sanāca gluži pieņemami. Un mums bija pasniedzēja Taņa.

Tagad man pirmdienas ir brīvas, un es aizgāju, un man tik ļoti patika, es gluži vai jūsmoju, jā gan. Pa dienu bija nomācoši, un man uzreiz tik priecīgi sametās  no kustību sakārtotības un atliecienu šarma. Muguras atlieciens ar skatu uz sāniem un rokām 5. pozīcijā laikam ir mana mīļākā kustība. Deju zālē vingrinājās vairākas pamatskolnieces, viens puisis, divas sievietes, un paša izvēlētos brīžos pieslēdzās vienas sievietes dēls futbolista tērpā. Pārējā laikā viņš vāļājās uz grīdas vai ripināja bumbiņu. Baleta skolotājs Aleksandrs izskatījās pēc klasiska baleta pasniedzēja, pelēkā džemperī ar augstu apkakli un sirmiem matiem, un baleta stāju, kas laikam viņu jau gadiem nav pametusi.

Es tiešām ļoti sapriecājos. Maza pasaulīte ar savu kārtību un izstrādātu kustību plastiku, garām aizripo bumbiņa un skolotājs neļauj darīt lietas nepareizi. Mājās braucot vēl bija gaišs, un tad satumsa, krita retas sniegpārslas, un izskatījās pēc sašļukuša novembra. Tobrīd tas nelikās nekas briesmīgs, aprīlis tikai izskatījās pēc saskumuša novembra, un, ja viņš ļoti grib, drīkst tā darīt.

Ja es katru nedēļu turpināšu iet uz klasisko deju, es varbūt varēšu uzrakstīt bakalaura darbu. Vēlāk vakarā sajutu interesi par Lielo patskaņu maiņu angļu valodā, un es jūtu, ka tas viss noskaņo pareizā virznienā. Es pat varētu vairākas stundas sēdēt klusā, vēsā bibliotēkā un lasīt vecas grāmatas. Pirms pāris dienām pēcpusdienā klausījos Filipu Glāsu, šķirstīju Bodlēra esejas, pa laikam apgūlos gultā, un bija sajūta, ka es patiešām varētu arī rakstīt to darbu. Vēl man tagad ir sengrieķu mīti un Tristans un Izolde. Bijām ciemos pie vecāsmammas, un viņa man gribēja iesmērēt latviski - francisku 1941. gada vārdnīcu, jo es taču runāju franciski un vārdi taču gadu gaitā nemainās, bet nez vai es varu uzticēties vārdnīcai, kura man piedāvā "pajemt". Toties es atradu Žozefa Bedjē "Stāstu par Tristanu un Izoldi", kuru (ne konkrēti šo versiju) es jau kādu laiku ļoti gribēju izlasīt, man šķiet, man patiks.

Kad es sāku mācīties franču valodu, vienīgais patiesi derīgais svešvalodas pielietojums bija, kad es Lāsmai varēju iztulkot kādu franču frāzi Arcade Fire dziesmās un kad es pateicu, ka "triste" franciski nozīmē "bēdīgs, skumjš". Patrikam Volfam ir dziesma Tristan, un tur ir rindiņas "Sorrow by name / And sorrow by nature", un es visu sapratu. Patīk tādus sīkumus saprast.

Man liekas, dejošanas nodarbības man palīdzēs iegrimt vajadzīgajā noskaņā, es nekur citur īpaši neiešu, tikai uz bibliotēkām un dejošanu. Lasīšu vecus tekstus un rakstīšu piezīmītes, mazliet interesēšos par pavasara gaisu un ziedošām plūmītēm, dažiem draugiem, un atslodzei lasīšu sengrieķu mītus par dieviem un nimfām. Nimfas man diezgan labi patīk, un kādā velsiešu valodā mans vārds nozīmē "nimfa" vai "ūdens nimfa".

^^^^^
At the very same evening of the 2nd of April (it's bloody difficult to spell "April" properly with the first attempt; it's either "Paril" or "Aril", and this is not the first time) I went to a classical dance class. It is long time, might be 6 years now, since I have not been to any classical dance classes. At that time I loved those Saturday forenoons with always the same lively piano music, exercises made well in rhythm and attempts to keep the focus at one point during spins. I usually lost the focus anyways, or I simply did not restrain myself to a single focus point, all the rest I could do quite decently though. And our teacher's name was Tanya.

Now I have Mondays off, and I went there and liked it so much, I was nearly in raptures. The day was quite depressing, and then I got so cheerful from the arrangement of moves and the charm of bends. The backbend while looking sideways and hands in the 5th position might be my favorite move. In the class there were several secondary school students, one guy, two women, and at some moments by his choice the son of one woman joined us. In the rest of the time he was lying on the ground or rolling a ball. The ballet teacher Aleksandrs looked like a typical ballet teacher, in grey turtle neck sweater and gray-haired, having such a ballet-bearing that has not left him for years I guess.

I was really glad. A small world with its own order and well-developed movement system, a ball passes by and the teacher does not let to do the exercises wrong. When I was going home, it was still quite light, then it got dark, rare snowflakes were dropping on the ground, and it looked like deflated November. At that moment it did not seem too awful, April just resembled sad November, and if he craves it that much, I don't mind.

If I keep attending the classical dance class every week, I might finish my thesis eventually. Later in the evening I felt rising interest about The Great Vowel Shift, and I feel that all this brings the mood in the right direction. I even would be able to spend multiple hours in a quiet, chilly library reading old books. A few days ago I spent the afternoon listening to Philip Glass, browsing Baudelaire's essays, lying on the bed time after time, and it felt like I really could be able to actually write this work I am supposed to. Besides now I have got a collection of Ancient Greek myths and the book about Tristan and Iseult. We were visiting grandma and she wanted me to collect a Latvian - French dictionary (1941), since I speak French and the words don't really change over the years, do they. Anyways, not even regarding the fact that it can get fairly awkward, using French words with their 40 years old meanings, I do not think I can trust a dictionary that offers me "to beatan". For all that I found Joseph Bedier's "The Romance of Tristan and Iseult" which (not specifically this version though) I wanted to read for quite a while now, I think I'll like it.
When I had just started to learn French, its only proper use was my ability to translate for Lasma the French phrases in Arcade Fire songs. Also when told her that "triste" means "sad, sorrow" in French. Patrick Wolf has got this song Tristan, and there are verses "Sorrow by name / And sorrow by nature", and I got that. I like to get such details.

I believe that dancing classes will help me to plunge into the right state of mind. I won't really go anywhere apart from libraries and dancing. I will read old texts and make notes, will have a tiny interest on spring air and blossoming plum-trees, a few friends and for relaxation I will read Ancient Greek myths on gods and nymphs. I like nymphs pretty well, in Welsh my name means "nymph" or "water nymph".

Bildes no mācību iestādes, kura, paviršu skatu uzmetot, šķiet piemērota bakalaura darba rakstīšanas noskaņai. Žēl, ka viņi ne pārāk tos savus bakalaura darbus raksta. /// Pictures from an academic institution whose atmosphere, having had a quick glimpse on it, seems to be well-suited for thesis writing. What a pity its students do not really write their diploma works.

2. aprīlis, priekšpusdiena, snieg /// April 2, noon, it's snowing

Vakar no rīta paskatījos pa logu, un uzreiz bija jānovēršas un jānoskurinās, skats bija ļoti nepatīkams. Pārāk balts šim gadalaikam, negribas vairs aprīlī sniegu, gribas, lai ir priecīgi, saulaini un plaukstoši. Tā jau vispār man sniegs patīk, bet, nu, 2. aprīlī tas var būt diezgan drausmīgi.

Pagājušajā ceturtdienā uz vienu noslēguma ballīti uzvilku pelēcīgi baltu kleitu, un viņā bija kaut kas ziemīgs. Tas vēl bija marts, un es vilku ziemas mēteli, un biju nolēmusi, ka pēc tam gan vairāk sarkano ziemas mēteli nevilkšu, aprīlī vairs neuzdrīkstēšos. Kleitu gan, kleitā arī kaut kas vasarīgi gaišs, kaut gan tobrīd vairāk ziemīgais, un es viņu pirku Londonā sava Karalistes perioda pēdējā dienā pirms atgriešanās Rīgā. Izbeidzās Skotija, beidzas darbs, un ziemai arī jābeidzas, taču tad laikapstākļi brutāli iemet sejā sniegu, ha! Drausmīgi. Visam jābeidzas un jāsakārtojas. Nesen piefiksēju, ka esmu tikusi pāri Skotijai, vairs nav tās sāpīgās ilgošanās, man vienkārši patīk. Kad sāpīgums norimstas un palien apakšā, ir ļoti labi.

Tagad, kad vairs nav jāiet uz darbu, jāraksta bakalaura darbs, un ir diezgan skaidrs, ka būs mokoši, un nekā dzirkstoši priekpilna nebūs, un pavasara arī nebūs. Janvārī un februārī vēl kaut kā var samierināties, bet tad, ka gaiss virmo un visi trakuļi kastaņi, ceriņi un ievas piesmaržo visas āres, nu kā tad lai dzīvo. Tas, ka grūti jau tagad saņemties, un nepatīk, un tas sniegs vēl. Nav labi.

Man patiktu tāda akadēmiskās izglītības dzīve, kas ir pietiekami gaisīga (es nemaz neceru, ka neviena grāmata, neviens Kūzieša teksts nekad nespiedīs pie zemes), atsvaidzinoša un kurā es satieku kursabiedrus, mēs izmetam loku pa Vecrīgu, pastāvam pie fakultātes, pasēžam lekcijā, aizejam nopirkt papīra formiņas kūciņām. Nu tā, kā līdz šim, tā man patika.

^^^^^
Yesterday morning I took a quick glance at the window, and had to look away right away and shake myself. The view was not a pleasant one. Too white for this time of year, I don't wanna have any snow in April, I want it to be cheerful, sunny and blossoming. In general I do like the snow, but, well, it can be quite miserable for the 2nd of April.

Last Thursday for one final party I put on a greyish white dress, and there was something winter-like about it. It was still March then, I was wearing my red winter coat and I had decided not to wear it anymore in this season. I don't dare to wear the winter coat in April. I could wear the dress though, as there is also something summery light, although at that moment I felt the winter side more. I bought this dress in London at the very last day of my United Kingdom period just before returning to Riga. Scotland has ended, job is ending, and winter is supposed to end as well, yet the weather brutally throws snow in your face, hah! Awful. Everything has to end and get in order. Not long ago I noticed I have got over Scotland, there isn't this painful longing anymore, I simply like it. When the pain goes down and stays there, it is actually nice.

Now when I don't have to go to work anymore, I'm supposed to write my thesis, and I see it pretty clearly it's gonna be painful and harsh, and there won't be anything effervescent and joyful, there won't be any spring at all. In January and February one can somehow cope with that, but when the air vibrates and those possessed chestnut-trees, lilacs and bird-cherries flood every tiny street with their scents, how one is supposed to survive then. It is hard enough to pluck up the spirit already now, and I really dislike all that, besides there is snow. Not good.

I woud love such an academic education life which was airy enough (I don't even dare to dream that no heavy book, no Cusanian text won't ever push me down to the ground), refreshing and in which I get to meet my course-mates, we take a stroll in the Old Town, stand in the front of the Faculty, sit in a lecture a bit, go to buy cupcake cases. As it was until now, I liked it that way.

Fakultātes bibliotēka, kuras plauktos grāmatas ir uzmundrinoši krāsainas. Man gan vispār nekas neuzmundrinošs tur nešķita, es tikai pagaidīju Katrīnu. /// In the library of our Faculty, where all the books happen to be encouraging colourful. Anyways, I didn't find anything dispiriting there, I was just waiting for Katrina.

Agnese Ētikā III, pie baznīcas /// Agnese in Ethics III, next to a church

Ričards Imanuelā Kantā, lasa grāmatu /// Ricards in Immanel Kant, reading a book

Ričards, Kants, Dievu mijkrēslis /// Ricards, Kant, Twilight of the Gods

Mans mētelis Sociālajā filozofijā II; es atnācu uz lekciju, un uz viena āķīša bija kaltēta sarkana rozīte, protams, es izvēlējos tieši to āķīti, un neviens pirms manis to nebija pamanījis un aizņēmis, gluži vai maģiski. Uzreiz patīkami, ka atnācu uz lekciju /// My coat in Social philosophy II; I entered the classroom and there was a dry red rose on one of the hooks. Naturally I picked that one, and no one had noticed and occupied it before me, isn't that magic.