I took out pastels again, wrong idea. I am trembling all over. In spite of the tropical heat of my room, shivers merge with sweat. Am I going to stay all week-end in my bed listening to muted romantic pianists? I feel like a phoetus, plunged in the darkness, wrapped in a sticky blanket, looking for safety. Among caughings, I finally found peace and I even made a weird dream. Michel Gondry was a great help. I'm exhausted, I'm going to wake up now.
