Hi, guys!
Yesterday I decided to take a break from drawing (my friends reminded me of how important it is to rest sometimes), and spent almost the whole day on the street with my dog. We walked 27 thousand steps, twice as much as usual. They would have walked further, but it was completely dark, and the little legs of my dog were very tired.
Today I definitely need to make edits to the layout of the fourth week of training in the digital drawing course, and send the final version to the teacher. I plan to do this right after I walk a little more with my baby. For some reason, in recent days I am terribly drawn to the street, although summer is my hour unloved season. It's hot, stuffy, and now everything is covered with poplar fluff. I don’t know why it was necessary to plant so many poplars, the whole city is practically white with endless fluff.
The bad news is that I have already triggered the mania, and now, in an amicable way, I would need to get to my doctor so that she would extinguish this process. But I’m so happy, so productive that I don’t feel like doing it at all. No person with bipolar disorder wants to extinguish hypomanic episodes, because they are so beautiful. Another thing is that we know perfectly well that depression will come after him.
Here is the same thing every time. You know that it's time to ask for medical help, and you don't want to do it, because your disease is two-faced, and one of its faces is beautiful and beloved.
But still I try to control myself and at least get enough rest. Look what kind of dog I met yesterday. I think the photo is very memorable :)
She can''t find a hedgehog:)
And book continuation, of course:
Novak examined potential teachers. Mark teases him. Jane pesters with questions. Lars generally sleeps, stretched out on the deck in the bow of the ship. The elf is silent ... But he looks so that, willy-nilly, you wonder - what are you doing wrong right now? The dwarf remains.
“Let Bereznik teach me,” he finally decided.
The tiefling shrugged.
-Well, good.
The future teacher approached Che and said:
-So so. On the other end of the deck are 66 bags of salt that I brought from the caves. Take them all to the hold. And count: one, two, three ... Slowly you will reach 66.
A few hours later, Che, lathered and dissatisfied with life, barely crawled to the tiefling. Bereznik was sleeping peacefully, leaning against the mast.
-Well, how did you find out what sixty-six is? Felix asked him.
-Yes, master ...
-Well?
-This is fucking! The goblin rubbed his aching shoulders. But now all the salt is in the hold.
-Excellent. Now wash the deck and you can rest.
“Look, there’s something burning,” Jane narrowed her eyes, peering into the horizon.
-Indeed, - Lars got up from the deck, stretched with pleasure, muscles played on his hands covered with runic tattoos, - It looks like someone burned the coastal village to the ground.
The ship made its way slowly towards the dock. When the heroes finally went ashore, the fire had subsided noticeably.
-Bereznik, stay, look after the ship. We need to look for survivors, let's split up, said Lars. There seemed to be no objection.
After a couple of hours of searching among the ruins, they still managed to find several people.
The survivors complained about the northerners who burned down their village, raped their women and killed their children. It was almost unbearable for a normal person to listen to it, and especially to watch grown men cry, who had a chance to endure such grief. Now they have nothing left.
-Why didn't anyone protect the village? Jane said with indignation and bitterness in her voice.
-Probably, others simply do not care? - Mark shrugged his shoulders, - So it happens - important bumps sit in the city, and ordinary people have to take the rap on their own.
See you in the next post!
Love, Inber