I Am Here, My Ethos.

Chapter 12: For space, I give - sofa.

Spatial axis I create mentally are my favourite drawing. Earth is rotating and I am alone. The time has come and I saw my idle. It brings time property into display. I live for it. The connection is cyclic. As, rotating the wheels of a broken bicycle, I won't go.

The time complains of imprisonment. I have it in the palm of my hands. It's fate is concrete. The proof is in the case, though consequence is a matter of expectation, time is the contract of space. Time does not change, space does. To be aware of it is to be an attentive witness.

It is still in its manor.

Life's indifference to adaptation worries me. The case is self-obligations. I am organised in my schedule. I checklist everything.

Sometimes I lose the meaning of conviction to the processing of thought. As I hold a pen in my mouth, I don't know how time is. The ever so great version of me resides in relapses in my mind. I am far off hanging my arm off the car's window. I do not have a car.

Life will not surprise me, nor the wind. It will congratulate me.

The purpose of my being is that I am in leisure, most of the time is the aim.

I didn't want a sofa, I wanted a bed-couch. Something I can transform as the hours of the day engulfs my axil posture.

But I knew better, space likes unpredictably. It is because time is stable that it can stand out. To transform my day to a less hectic version; I will furniture a downsized recognition of time. A smaller apprehended period. In my mind I'm a lazy creature with impeccable taste.

"where do you want your sofa?" is not the reckoning of my future. I am reasonable. "Adjacent to my bed, in fact, close to my bed." I know the difference.

To avoid the clashing of energies, I covered the sofa with a green quilt.

Now, I'm in control.

The efforts paid, a couch potato is my submerged reality.

Time, a ministry of oaths that surrender me. The promise is to remain submissive to the changes that alter my ego.

Also, coffee.

The spatial now exists in factory, a small space made that can fit a single light photon.

My time, not the clock's. This is my life. I am rotating earth's equator, responsibly, it is my concur.