It is still not day and yet it is not night, so what is three o’clock in the morning?
It is the worst hour, it is the hour when you are pinned down, alone, the hour when you have to come to
with your life. It is the hour when you suffer in your imagination. You think about one
problem at a time, that one is too big, the pandemic will not be solved.
You are alone, you feel naked, exposed. You are alone,
and you hear the echo of your pain and it is better not to wake anyone.
You search for the memories scattered on the ground like pearls on a necklace, you
you are racking your brains, you don’t know how to get out.
You don’t find them, they’ve ended up in dark corners, finally some light begins to filter through, dawn comes.
some light, dawn comes. You feel someone moving around. Here comes
the smell of coffee, life rises.
And even your problems begin to be more dimensioned.
You wait and try to think somehow I will.
The courage of starting again rises up with the light of dawn.