First Post in Waverley

Here I am, over in Waverley now.

One thing does strike my mind, indeed the day will come like a thief. Yesterday night, you snuggle under the warm duvet under a skeleton and a bat, overlooking the lone kitchen light between red walls, with less than 5 steps from the window. Now, everything is different, the bed felt a little further from a window opening to a far broader vista of modern buildings and cathedral spires instead of an old country block. No more Mr. Smiling face, but there is the vast expand of unbroken sky with the tint of sunset in the corner of my eye. The golden street lamp is now many pearly white spotlights standing as sentinels over a multistory car park. No more love making birds. Everything is grander and less personal here.

Indeed, the day came like a thief. There you were, in the comfort as if never fathoming leaving, but before you know it, before even a day is gone, right here you are, the seemingly endless days become memories and a new chapter unfolds.

That the sleepers will sleep, and day will break, and when they open their squinting eyes like naked moles, white searing lights will greet their face. No wonder, 5 times it is repeated, the Day will come like a thief!

Must one chose between Briar Rose's bliss or the waking dream?