Ah life, the emotions hold themselves much better today. Yesterday I was all sur toute joie pour l'etrangler j'ai fait le bond sourde (?) de la bete feroce, today my douleur is plus tranquille. I think the important thing is to hope, but not concretely hope. But this I mean let the fond fantasies play, because quite simply they make me happy; I don't have the constitution to be dmom, really, perhaps no-one does. The nature of my violent overreactions is interesting in itself; it is part and parcel of emotional thinking: nothing is done by halfs. But the doulorous counterpoint to the above is that my thiseved contentitude owes it's existence to tokens of esteem from my beliked, little ones indeed, but ones nonetheless. But the weekend looms with nothing to do, although let's not let facts spoil mood.