Day 48
8 AM, I opened my computer.
Walking to the window, I happened to see that the sun was no longer glaring—like a cooked egg yolk, hanging softly on the horizon. The clouds were dyed in tangerine red, layer upon layer, like ocean waves, or like cotton candy.
On weekends, most people in this city rest at home.
I gazed at this quiet scene.
99+ messages in my phone, 99+ discussions in group chats, 99+ fluctuations on the market app.
Terrified of missing something, terrified of falling behind, terrified that if I don't check the charts for one second, the next second it will skyrocket.
But sta
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