Unusually hot summer in St. Petersburg. Four years have passed and I think I went there yesterday.
Seagull on the embankment of Volgograd.
I want, but I cannot shake the feeling that my works small, insignificant. A feeling exacerbated by a small area of my tablet and small formats for traditional painting and drawing. In prose, I also gravitate to small form.
I comfort myself that that there is no place to store the big picture, but what disturbs me to try to write a book? Fear of large projects, nothing more.
In the evening, I was looking through the concept art to animation from the first part of “Deathly Hallows”, such a little episode and so much work! Do I ever get my animation or though gifs from several frames? It is doubtful. This inability is my take on something big constantly gnaws at me gradually. Everything I do can be called spreading over trifles.
Work on impulse, an attempt to catch the inspiration for the tail, and pour out more quickly as a result of eternal frustration, a sense of their own inferiority. I do not know what to do.
So I shall try to indicate their verbal presence here again. I do not know why I want so much to express in words, or should I say - why do I want to speak. While here, I probably know the answer - the fear of death.
Capture your image in photographs, drawings and words until the grim reaper not separate me from this world.
Capture not only Russian, but also on poorly studied by me - English. Again the feeling of meaninglessness effortlessly. Now it almost does not let go.
It seems to me that an individual does not mean anything, but a community of people - too. And because of that, the already mentioned grim reaper. However, it is hoped that the information as the energy does not disappear. So I will continue to litter ether words. The most pointless exercise - describe your own life, but I surrender to this task with the greatest fervor.
And this despite the fact that I know I never reread old, just because the past disgusts me. Any good or bad it was. Good memories are forced to suffer the inability to return to the bright past, bad memories cause suffering to live again…
In my head right now is the voice of the latter you listened to audio books, sorry that the text after the translation I have not evaluated in terms of intonation. Lord, what nonsense I wrote! Perhaps it is necessary to stop there.