This has been ultra long day - entirely on my feet. Approximately 8-9 hours of walking around. All feet in hideous blisters.

The summary of the day - sometimes it is not meant to be with someone. He/she can be kind, nice and attractive as hell, but if there is something wrong with your mental connection, this relationships are unsustainable.

While walking away from the entrance of the Academy of Art I suddenly noticed the sculpture (which is always there), but it wasn't the sculpture as the whole subject that attracted my attention - it was her bottom. Isn't it ironic and symbolic that the first thing an artist sees is musculus gluteus maximus of a copy of the most ancient peace of art found on Earth?