I did not will to sleep, but just like that, the sleep occurred...

The light is already less vigorous. It tries to pierce through the blinds on the window. A few succeed, only to shed a tinge of mundaneness on the forgotten wooden floor. The rest is thrown away into shadows; some are visible on the wall, while the remaining is swept into unexciting parts of the room. The smell, however, has an easier time to pass through, as the glass panes were left open. It carries an early evening breeze that casually wafts across the monotone space and shyly pumps into random objects - just enough to announce its presence against the backdrop of the prevailing mildness of the atmosphere. There is not just one smell. Or maybe after all there is just one - one that has been very carefully disguising itself under the scent of familiarity. This time it brings along an earthy, grassy element. Outside, raindrops have been falling gracefully. They have been deliberately hitting the soft spots of the surface, so as not to bother any bystanders with their unrhythmic and uncoordinated sounds. Sporadically, they would miss a few high-pitched notes. 

Suddenly, all the many different sights, sounds, and scents are glued together by some mysterious force, as if to form a coherent scene, to tell a cohesive story. But it is peculiar: the scene is without sceneries and the story is without meaning, because upon closer inspection, they all turn out to be a mere collection of clumsily and continuously moving things. It would be too simplistic and uncharitable to the scene workers to proclaim that it's just one single scene; rather, they are millions of snapshots with minimal, subtle changes between successive frames. No matter how quick one can be to box them into a concrete, stable meaning, the scene quickly shifts its appearance, rendering all efforts meaningless. Very well then, let them be as they are, let them play out their pointless story in the theater of no audience...

All of a sudden, again, all the ongoing occurrences are sorted into the background all the same, leaving the stage for something else. It is as if everything is flipped inside out. It is as if an invisible border is drawn between the things and the non-things. The stage is now full of... void. Its presence is nowhere to be found, yet its absence is uniquely contrasted by the uniform presence of the things which have now taken the place of the audience. Down in the corner of the theater is a mirror - a silent witness of this strange phenomenon. But whenever one comes up to ask it, all the strange phenomena would come to pass. And all that is left to be seen is the reflection of oneself, standing stubbornly in the way of these wondrous occurrences. 

 In the briefness of time, a moment of tranquility befalls me. 

I feel light. And hungry. I hop out of the bed and walk downstairs. A girl with a strong perfume passes by me. She says hi, to which I respond with hello. I step outside, only to come back again to get my umbrella. It has now turned to dark completely. As I'm walking to the cafeteria, the rain is still falling mischievously, sneaking into my toes. The chatters get louder. The magic wanes out. And I am now noticeably hungry.