Tuesday, 8 January 1884

Dina poses well — but there is something that makes her not feel the pose and shift, even while not moving. I would ten times prefer a model who moves a great deal but recovers the right pose at moments... Or else... Well, no matter the reason — it is not going well, there it is! And as I do not give in to bad luck, it becomes a terrible struggle that breaks me. The fury reaches the point where one appears extraordinarily calm and one's movements take on a sickly slowness, while one has a mad desire to smash and tear everything.
This is a day that may count for a year of ordinary life — of dances, races, etc.
They are mounting my Nausicaa — and the imbecile of a workman has made it too large... Yet another mishap!
Still — I am not complaining. It is merely tiring. If at least I were like those devout women who offer their torments to God so that he may reward them — if he were to reward... it would be simpler simply to trouble no one... Besides, I have on this subject ideas... not very Catholic. It seems that is called being a Spiritualist... Very well — Spiritualist it is.