早上六点半，窗外的光是灰蓝色的，像没有泡开的茶。
早上六点半，窗外的光是灰蓝色的，像没有泡开的茶。
我没有立刻起床。被子下面的那块温度，是属于一个人的；起来之后，世界就开始要回它的部分了。
后来我坐在桌前，看一只苍蝇在玻璃上走了三十秒——这件事不重要，但我觉得它值得被记住。
At six-thirty the light outside is a grey-blue, the colour of tea that hasn't yet steeped.
I don't get up right away. The patch of warmth under the blanket belongs to one person; once I stand, the world begins to take its part back.
Later I sit at the desk and watch a fly walk along the window for thirty seconds — it isn't important, but I think it's worth remembering.