A handful of melancholia seeps in among the ticking sounds of my blooming consciousness. What a nuance to create. It seems the past is not as horrendous as the future, which is as bright as the one-o’clock skies at night.

What will become of me ten years apart? Wondering whether I would still breathe with this nose which used to be the source of my insecurity.

Life beats are tickling and counting down the seconds I have consumed. Swallowing each essence; self’s and the world’s agenda to survive in life, either alone or together.

I make a bet with myself without knowing a single thing about how little...