Continuum. Morning Light.

Fifth floor of an old building. You are outside, floating in the air. You caress the void. You see an open window. 6.24 a.m. The light is a mixture of warm colors and cold breeze. You slowly slide inside the room. it is empty. It is abandoned. The walls are ruined, and over them you can see a couple of old paintings. Frames are broken. The ground is dirt and dusty and the light that comes from outside draws circles all around. You, white feather, turn several times on your axis and in that fragment of time you see everything there was in that room. Memories, forgotten stories, expectations, dreams.
7.13 a.m. The light is changing and you can't stay inside there for other time. you are like pushed out from that room, your intrusion is over. and you are forced to slip away. bringing with you just out-of-focus visions of what there was.