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Transparent it is, that empty glass on the table, and hollow within yet those many colourful reflections on the surface seems to fill an otherwise empty vastness. Filling slowly with a little happiness drop by drop each drop settling into a softer bed of smiling ripples that goes and goes until the reflection itself push her back. Slowly as the glass fills with happiness, emptiness spills out increasing the surrounding to yet more nothingness which is again reflected from the smooth transparent surface of the glass itself. Since the surrounding is filling with the spilling emptiness, from where is this happiness pouring into the glass, one might ask?