The Emptiness -a second note- . You wake up with a start before the day has called you. The darkness still hangs languidly around you, as if the night refuses to leave. The room breathes silence, only the soft ticking of the heater suggests that the world still exists. Your eyes search for the ceiling, which floats in the vague light like an endless horizon. The alarm clock, set for an absurdly early time, remains silent. You are ahead of time, but not through victory—rather through an almost submissive surrender to the unnameable. Under the covers, your feet feel cold, as if they live in a different season than the rest of your body. An everyday discomfort, and yet it becomes a symbol of something greater. Something you cannot grasp. It is as if you are looking down on your own life from a great height—a small figure in a landscape of expectations and missed opportunities.