I haven't seen Erik in almost a year, but he called me last week. I don't know why we stopped calling each other, it just happened. The friendship just slowly faded away. I went to visit him yesterday, he's got his own apartment now, a really nice place. We sat there in his couch drinking beer and talking about old times all night. There's always a special feeling about rediscovering old friends, all the memories are always so overwhelming. He fell asleep, and I went home.

Getting home in the middle of the night is always a pain. No trains go. olny busses, full of drunk people, sleeping, shouting, vomiting, yeah, all that stuff drunk people usually do. Not very fun. But I'm used to it. It doesn't bother me anymore as long as I have my notebook with me. Sketching or writing is always a good way to pass the time. It's more creative than thinking, even though I'm an observer. I look at things. I see those things no one else sees. I see, and I imagine, and I think and I dream.

It was a wonderful night. You know it's spring when it almost warmer in the night than in the day, and you don't have to wear a jacket anymore. Those are the times when I enjoy life.