Whatever they are doing in the street (testing helicopters? Drilling for oil? Emptying an anti aircraft machinegun?), it is making liquids ripple in my cups and glasses. I am either getting used to it, thinking it funny, or I am running out of places to relocate. I haven't decided yet. My vibrator is ridiculously ineffective, as if I try to use it, it simply makes my vagina completely still.

The only good thing about this is that yesterday I collected all my work and took it to a friend who, while I draw, read to me from a Khaled Hosseini novel. the world was completely queit and still. Only tremmors came from heavy footsteps of the giant in the story. Few days from now I will be done with drawing and will be able to write again, far from here, creeping back into my home under a cloak of darkness when it’s too grim for the machines to party.