My grandma hates sunlight; she wants the room to be as dark as possible and she starts suspecting that people are trying to spy on her if her curtains are open, but me? No no. I love sunlight; I also love darkness. I basically love things they way they are supposed to be. I absolutely adore that moment when the sunlight hits my face with bursting vigor and me, trying to look at that magnificent all-bright sun without fully being able to. In the morning, all you would see me doing in the bus is trying every second to glimpse where the sun is at.

The same thing with the moon, at night, I would go out in the balcony and look everywhere to find the moon; the stars are hardly visible in the city because light pollution obviously. When night settles in, and I’m ready to retire for the day, I’d hate it if someone has any kind of bulb or lamp on, I just stop for a moment every night to take in the mysteriousness of the night, the illusions of darkness and that magnificence of, simply, blankness.