Oops. I’ve just broken an ink cartridge. And despite the fact that the loss of the valuable stick annoyed me a little, I made a pause staring at the damaged object. I was hypnotized by the greediness with which a tissue absorbed the navy ink, by how rapidly the fluid tinted it dark blue. In a matter of seconds the tissue was all soaked through, dripping with what seemed to be sticky, dense liquid… Blood. I thought of it immediately and felt rather disordered, sitting there and finding delight in the touch of a paper tissue heavy with navy blood. Needless to add – with my hands stained with ink all over. Everybody has those strange moments, don’t they?
Nothing stains people as much as ink does – the dictum which struck me so forcedly a few months earlier suddenly came back. I can’t really explain why, but it’s a motto that I will actually remember forever. Maybe it’s only because of my odd obsession about creation and words, words, words… This brief metaphor indicates the immense responsibility that the Author has to take for what he creates and – in my interpretation – the incredible power that words wield. The power to immortalize and demoralize, to beatify and condemn, to change the face of the world and to influence individual lives… This is precisely as magnificent as human art can become – it’s more than simply passing a message, it actually transfers soul, brains, ideas, the whole complex construction of a personality. Of course it’s communication – but shifted into a far more advanced level, so perfectly human…
Well, just a bunch of thoughts about ink…

What a bliss !
I just came back from a walk - hadn't actually planned it - purely wonderful. It's so silky warm outside, and then there's the night and the rain... I was stupefied by how charming it was and how much I wanted to go on and on...