Good morning Friday. It is half an hour past midnight. But how do one know it is friday and half past midnight. Some ancestor might have missed a day or so in counting days and as well missed a few seconds or more in a freezing time. So this might not even be friday and the hour might be some other. But why do I worry about that because no matter which day or what time, I am still stolen and lost and myself being lost and my thoughts being read elsewhere still remain the same.
As I wait a few moments to think, the screen of my notebook took a nap and suddenly I saw the robber light from outside creeping slowly through the sleeping sheers of the window. I think she plans to rob myself from my thoughts. It is dark inside the room and I am hiding from her who slowly passed unnoticed and crawled creeping on the few surfaces where she touched as she went and lay her full beauty on the warm wooden clad wall in front of my bed. I almost felt that warmth and nearly fell asleep. As if loosing all hope she shook her entire self and at that very moment the whole space seemed rippling like a mirage as if no shape existed in a space of volume in the room. Finally she reached me, stood at a breathe apart and I seem paralyzed like in a coma or more like a near last moment but I could feel her entire self. She did not say a word but stood there at that close distance only staring and it was then that I noticed the faint smile on her eyes. I knew that I did blink only once but that once was just enough for her to escape taking what she came to steal.
I was taken by the beautiful robber light that crawled in through my sleeping window sheers. You just sipped only these; my thoughts, that is all there is left from a lost cup that was me.
