Wednesday, 9 July 1884

Wild dashes through Paris, Neuilly, the fortifications, and so on.

The architect was summoned here this morning. He is the third person to tell me that there are never wrestlers performing outdoors in Paris. So... I am left with jugglers and the street with its physiognomies — was that not what I wanted?

Yes, but the wrestlers...

Until I have found what I am looking for, it is hell.

Here is Julian writing to me. Rotten beast. But I care absolutely nothing about it. He feels guilty — see the flattery at the end.

Ah! My painting!!