In three days 65 pages grew to 80 pages and naturally split into two files. The first half (50 pages) is basically done. The second half (30 pages written in full sentences, 10 pages yet in bullet points) should be done today. Really crazy days, as if each day were a qualifying exam day. But the more I write the more disillusioned I become. I'm now almost like a writing machine. I wonder who is writing, whether this I who is disturbed by the sound of rain drop or the other I who sketched the draft months ago. It's strange that I'm still not mad. Or maybe I'm already insane. Who knows?
