Masses. I get lost in them. Just like everyone else. Or it's just me. I'm just not myself among much people. Yes, I am shy, but standing in a crowd which I barely know makes me even more anxious. It's like everything which consists the person that I am just flows away, goes under with the masses. I cannot decide, neither can I speak normally without being ridiculously childish, stuttering and mumbling. I feel like Berenger in "Rinoceros". I try to convince myself that I don't care what people think about me, my way of thinking, my opinions about society, but I can't accomplish that. I am human at last. "My psychoanalyst thinks I'm perfectly right" though.
Birdie. A3, pencils.
Bob Dylan concert. Man, I adore this person. His music is fantastic, though he is not that admired for his voice. He is a poet. It is his personality and beliefs that make him valued and appreciated. He is not someone who feels the need to spread his life around the media. Why would he? He was hanging out with Ginsberg, that would explain much.