In the morning I didn't have enough time to say something, so let's consider this my morning. But what do you consider a morning, when you hardly remember the thoughts you had back then? The sky was pale, the trees where (as they have been for the past month) covered with the magical snow mist, the sun was hidden somewhere within the white abyss. It’s only natural to [mark] your surroundings. And my thoughts? They were empty, but for the memories of the last couple of lines of a fanfic: “He would have been able to do it 8 years ago, but now, when he lost him and found him once more, he was powerless…”. Reading before sleep is something I really shouldn’t do, as my “waking ups” always carry only the power of last nights author’s words, thought I. That kind of lyrical mood doesn’t last long. Then comes me begging my mum to hit me, so that I lose consciousness and won’t have to go to my lessons.