Dear Diary- Give color to my world

The roads are full of the weight of years and great lessons. We choose to walk them. We choose to leave inaction. Especially if it is already Tuesday midnight and a beautiful kitten has slipped through my window. He is white and has blue eyes. I wish he were black and defective. Then I'd be crafty and leave the house immediately. He has been purring in a painting, where an attempt was made to paint a bag of potatoes. From the north comes this gentle breeze. Today is gone. It's tomorrow's now. I hope the fucking translator knows how to write you, or reflect the intentions. I hate sharks or scavenging beasts, if I could tame them, it would be something else. Would you like a red wine? Or just sign up to wink wink wink. Everything is paid for. Even the pennants and incense. Shred artichokes and potatoes. You want to spread butter on these oatmeal muffins. Monsieur, try to bring me a BONNEAU DU MARTRAY C-CHARL.91. I hope they have some in this crummy little shop. As soon as the sun goes down over the chimneys of this beautiful city. We'll have something to drink. Would you like something to snack on? Have you seen the harsh Moscow winter up close? Drink, because outside, the colors of the sunset are still glowing.

I've been having erotic dreams. I'm that girl you know that in my heart I carry only my husband. But he always comes stinking of cheap alcohol. And tobacco. The tobacco must not be his, for I've never seen him smoke. People are gossipy and say he spends his days in houses of ill life. I hope I get hit with the broom 80 times today. I will still be naked in the middle of winter. The cold is something I've begun to enjoy. I am disturbed by the dirty idea of cold in some parts. I hope that, writing, they die on these pages, these unfortunate rants.

This is the second time I have had these dreams. I have awakened in the basement and my husband is a drooling tame beast. He has climbed on top of me and I have felt his breath like a locomotive. He has sadly fallen asleep. I have thought a few times of setting him on fire. I pray fervently for these impure desires. This morning he slapped me hard before releasing my leashes. I feel lucky that this good man comes home every day and puts a plate of food on the table. Creator God. Bless this food. Take care of Teresita, Mercajulia. Amen. Am I not that lucky girl my friends tell me about?