it's pass 12. the room is consumed by a reverberating silence and a handfull of faded scene. it doesnt mean to be scary. in fact it is thrilling. the thinker, with everything and anything on his weakening mind, slowly move his fingers. he delve in every idea that was dumped on his memory. his mind beats like a machine. processing every imaginable impulses on the smallest unit of time. he started to grow, he began to increase in size and, the way he feel, in power. series of pictures rushes before his sight. it was breath-takingly amazing.

he started to levitate. he opens the door slowly. others might wake-up. then he flew outside of his home, flew as fast, as high and as far as he can. the feeling was warm. no. it was more than warm. its hot. its burning. its like a fusion of ultimate good things in a single instance. he feels something. this is too much for him to contain. he is going to ... wake up...

he rushes for a glass of water. but what he felt, as you've probably expected, is more than a dream. its a vision of infinite ideas to flow on his mind. the thinker paused, then opened his canvass started painting, started creating images and ideas none has ever saw before. it was majestic. when the art was finished he said "... ang bangis ko...".