Lost

There is a silent railway station sometime between hour of dog and hour of wolf. I am shivering and my pen is not writing. All the people are sleeping, only I and the birds are awaking. There are far sounds, maybe the cars or something like this. Just a liner train has passed. My cigarette has gone out. Now, some locomotive has blown itself. It is 1:45 AM and I am somewhere where I should not be. The writing is running on the paper. I cannot imagine anything. Maybe I have no any inspiration. I am thinking about something what I did not do it. Vainly. Again the locomotive has blown itself. I am still waking. Dark is already changing into light. The birds have felt silent. Only dogs are barking.

Is it Second Life or Real Life?