"Early morning wanderings of an autumnal mind" by Baran

Indeed it is autumn. She could smell the wind and the creepy coldness in the air on her way. 5:15 in the morning. Sitting on a stony bench under the ground, curved tall walls of cement are in front of her. Sleepy emotionless faces. A routine day like any other and yet there she is, carrying the remnants of her dreams in her. Her stomach turning and twisting, as if trying to get rid of worries of a bad dream. Little bits of hope sparkling like shiny dots from time to time. Her mind somewhere between the realm of reality and dreamland. Here comes the train. A row of heads leaning against windows with closed puffy eyes. She doesn't want to think about all the twists and sparkles in her stomach. It is all way too complicated. One should really struggle to open the knots, to remember where she comes from every morning are times when she remembers , but it's an estranged, exotic land, not always likeable. In fact at times pretty dark and freaky, full of distorted relationships and ridiculous worrisome events, but she knows well enough that most of the times the twists and sparkles will vanish and the picture will get clear. Like an unfocused blurry picture of the shiny world and all its issues which impose themselves on you as the "reality". And one is usually more than willing to accept it. One can even help the process, just lean on the window, close your eyes and go to a state between these two, from time to time open your eyes, a blink of reality and then close them again, let your mind digest it. One automatically knows how to do it, how to switch and one automatically misses part of her life, part of all that happens to her, shown to her...So a while has passed now, she had smelled the coldness and the wind again, and the picture is focused now. Here is what she sees: a conference room full of people ready to discuss the "real" world's issues.