Birds singing and flying. Cars running by the street. The clangour of the pots that just boiled water and the jingle of the cutlery that just forked and cut omelettes being washed under waterfalls of natural soap. The smell of the coffee. The timidly enlightened curtains.

“Wake up. Wake up.”

What time was it?

“It’s 7 in the morning. You’re running late for work.”


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