Yesterday I received one of which I would have expected at least as pronounced never called, a liar, an idiot, Tinker, dreamers, babblers, said, moreover, that I made nothing. (I had truthfully admitted that the family I currently can not get through my literary work.)
I was not only surprised, first a little flat, because I had not previously done with the man the first good conversation, know him as art direction, asked me all the time, so he told me, in all that to criticize me readily, that now were so hard. He expected me straight to the bottom floor wannabe proposition of our society. He did not even apply childless, that I my two staples in raising them alone for now well seven years, so well but even in this time, at least a little bit would have done, but me to drill for Philologenart in the nose or anus.
To a certain extent, I was able to turn the tide. (I would, of course, can I just turn away, but I wanted one hand, stand firm, on the other hand fathom why the by no dispute headed, no criticism on my part about him and his work to me in this manner is the edge at a time, dazuhin times look, if I still could unsettle some extent his majesty at least.) (more ...)
