pierrot is not a fou

spent yesterday afternoon-evening in counting every one of my fallen mythologies:

the mischievous sense that yesterday was supposed to be that darn lucky day i had foreseen on monday. which makes me laugh.
being lost in translation. i cannot but smile inside. just dont want to get rid of my french-thinking mind.
torn up by words. when i m in love with words. that's funny
realised i cannot endure my personal "dolls" anymore, and found out the same day, that i wasn't watching a movie, just making my personal series of photographic-sort of- snapshots .gorgeous as far as i can perceive, but just mine.

so ive painted a tear on my cheek, just to explain how sad i am.