V's book. Coptic binding with tarred paper covers and a reindeer skin reinforced spine. V found the illustration from my old encyclopaedia, it's from Hans Holbein's Danse Macabre. (5.9"x8.3"/15x21cm. 160 pages.)

There's always too much to say. I end up saying next to nothing. I got into university. (I feel OLD every time I think of the boys and girls I saw at the entrance exam.) English will probably fill my days for the next 5 years or so, I'm not quite sure what to think of it. Feeling happy anyway. 662 applied, 64 got in. I got in. I thought it wasn't going to happen, and then it did. I kind of miss this English I'm now writing already. Someone will teach me grammar and punctuation (and many things a lot more difficult). Maybe I won't know how to write after I know how I should write. I've been happily ignoring the rules for the most part.

The heat wave. It's nothing new, but it's making my brain melt. For over two weeks now, there's not much of brain capacity left. I try to move as little as possible, to stay as close to the fan as I can without drying my eyes out.