Well, I have nothing to write. Nothing, that can really make sense or even accomplish itself as a truth, something which prevails and proves itself again and again over time. I have seen my dreams scrolling by, trying to contact me only when I am asleep, a time when I am lost in a world where I have no controls. I am confused deep inside in my core, with an expression of frustration.

Now, I am curled up in my bed, with temperature set at 25 degrees and a laptop in my lap, I am typing as if I am expressing my desire to speak to someone. This world has digitised itself to such an extent that we have a tremendous confidence in it, and we feel so close to it that we prefer writing our