It's 10.42 p.m.
I'm in my room, lying on the bed, immovable. The lights is off. I see nothing but the clock's faint green shadow on the floor. Ough.. there is a silent uninvited guest here. It's a reflection of passing car's headlight gliding on my ceiling. But now it's gone, I'm by myself, again
It's 11.21 p.m.
I still have no idea concerning my visual writing task, my head is empty. I fail to concentrate.
It's 11.30 p.m.
Sudden ding-ding sound. My phone's display illuminated shabby room. There's a massage for me. But I won't read it. I can't fetch my phone. I'm just like a bound Gulliver in Lilliput land, I can not move. My limbs are cold, cement, I almost don't feel them. It's too cold here. When ever anybody will turn the heating on??
But still, I can hear. I'm trying to intensify all my attention, all my senses. There are soft muffled murmuring voices behind the wall, water drops at the kitchen, my breath and the sound of the rustling paper under the pen where I'm writing this. But it's harder and harder to keep it in hand
One's dear, tender warm singing bursts in the room .. What is it? I see my mum in the sea like a mermaid.. Am I dreaming? I'm sliding in the sticky unconsciousnes
I'm in my room, lying on the bed, immovable. The lights is off. I see nothing but the clock's faint green shadow on the floor. Ough.. there is a silent uninvited guest here. It's a reflection of passing car's headlight gliding on my ceiling. But now it's gone, I'm by myself, again
It's 11.21 p.m.
I still have no idea concerning my visual writing task, my head is empty. I fail to concentrate.
It's 11.30 p.m.
Sudden ding-ding sound. My phone's display illuminated shabby room. There's a massage for me. But I won't read it. I can't fetch my phone. I'm just like a bound Gulliver in Lilliput land, I can not move. My limbs are cold, cement, I almost don't feel them. It's too cold here. When ever anybody will turn the heating on??
But still, I can hear. I'm trying to intensify all my attention, all my senses. There are soft muffled murmuring voices behind the wall, water drops at the kitchen, my breath and the sound of the rustling paper under the pen where I'm writing this. But it's harder and harder to keep it in hand
One's dear, tender warm singing bursts in the room .. What is it? I see my mum in the sea like a mermaid.. Am I dreaming? I'm sliding in the sticky unconsciousnes
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