Book: The chariot of time

"Winter" time...
Morning autumn day. Outside the window, as night - lights, lights, advertising.
Sometimes so passionately and eagerly waiting for dawn. But they were all twilight - rain, fog. What I need, physically need dawn.
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But sometimes we sit at the window, tired from the surrounding darkness, and look - there, back away.
When the first rays paint the clouds in a pink and Golden color.
Gentle dawn - Aurora - will smile to us with a sour autumn skies. And all this is impossible Khmara, twilight horror is swept away by the fresh morning wind.
Every morning I Wake up hoping that this will happen.
Time, in principle, nothing.
We in fact everyone has their own biological clock inside. And this is good. Is our identity. This is our personal inner freedom. The freedom of which we all dream, although sometimes do not admit it to themselves. And don't say it out loud.
At the time because there are no boundaries. And label it "summer" or "winter" is possible only conditionally.
All the same, because it's light. And the sun will appear from behind the clouds. And Aurora - dawn - delicate and bright, always new as the first day of creation, we all smile.