As I look at the lighting in my room..the morning whiteness unable to permeate through a thick curtain letting itself secretly stream into thin ribbons from small slits and spaces; it lends the room a romantically obscured look, one that could be called pristine and voicelessly soothing.
A muted matte look to beguile the glossy glimmer of harsh sun or white tube lights.
It's morning indeed and as much as I like it bright, I do tend to dislike the effulgent light from outside that shimmers in bedroom to ignite everything into warming tones of summer.
As I look at the lighting in my room I know it to be densely quixotic, just as I prefer it during moments of moonstruck rumination.
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