The time is 20:36. I'm sitting in my room listening to 'claire de lune' and 'La Fille Aux Cheveux De Lin'. That Debussy guy is really on to something. This melancholy music makes me think about getting old. I don't know why. Perhaps because the music makes me picture myself sitting as an old lady in a little hut in a forrest looking into a fireplace with a cat on my lap and a husband with a great beard sitting by my side. I can't wait to get old. Old and clarified. Having experienced it all, found myself, seen what there was to be seen, tasted what there was to be tasted.