Summer

The heat wakes me up early,

Torrid orange-yellow glow drifts in through the swaying, thin curtains.

The heat that wakes me up early is a kind of unknown warning.

The heat stops my aimless journey with fake dreams as consorts.

I touch her hand gently.

The heat is driving me to rewind and review.

The heat is the template on which my review workflow starts.

I am rolling, rewinding,

Like an innocent lithe figure running in one direction and the parallel frame running in the opposite direction.

You don’t know who is running to where.

It is the heat that is waking me early and making my eyes burn.

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When did you sleep?

Can you know the exact moment when you fell asleep last night? There is a difference between the fact that you decided to sleep, you lied down on the bed, you took a newspaper or a book to read, or you called your mother. But when did you really start the sleeping process that reveals only when you wake up sometime in the night, or in the morning.

At what exact moment did you fall into sleep from being awake?

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