Page 62 - www.composition1.com

realize is that some of them chose to be homeless. It's almost as if it were something you read out
of a book about Nirvana, that these types of people are trying to free themselves from suffering.

Later in the same dream, I try to look up at the night-sky, but there is too much pollution in the city.
All you can really see are small white dots, and one big dot that is sometimes yellow. If you're
lucky, there won't be white smoke passing through them.

These thoughts bring me closer to my window, and I try to look out at the night-sky, but still all I
can see are little white dots. I continue to look around and then I notice Lynne is down there,
looking at the flowers. They are growing well. Like many other things, the critical determination
on whether these flowers will flourish is how they are developed early on.

Like someone out of a mystery-murder book, I watch her silently. Her facial expressions, her
actions, the only thing I can't see are her thoughts. Now I see light, someone is coming out of the
building. I've seen this large woman in the building before but I don't know who she is. Her and
Lynne begin to talk.

I can't hear what they are saying but they are laughing and smiling, pretending as if the echoes
from the Sun reach every part of our world. That there is no darkness that cannot be shone out of
existence. But there is.

And then that's when it happens, a loud boom goes off in my apartment. At first I think someone
has sneaked in, but after a while I realize I'm the only one in the apartment. I heard the boom
clearly, but I couldn't tell where it came from. I check my bedroom, nothing has changed. Then I
go check the composition notebook room; the shelf that housed my notebooks had collapsed and
before me was a mess of black and white. It reminds me that there is still trouble in the world.

Composition 1, Part 4

Chapter 31:
THE SIN CITY

Last night, I had a dream. I'm in a room where the walls have recently been painted black, I can tell
because of the obvious smell of fresh paint. What color the walls may have been before my arrival,
only God and Satan know.

On these walls there are light switches. The normal light switch you would find in your room. The
light switch that you flick on without even realizing it because by now you've been doing it for so
long that it's second-nature. The only difference is that these switches are about ten times bigger
than the normal-sized light switch, and a little bit more white.

I start to walk up to one in hopes of flipping it on so I can light up this room, but as I walk closer
and closer I notice there is writing above the switch, as if it's the switches title. When I get close
enough I can finally read it, the word "Hate" has been written here in red. A few feet to my right,
there is another switch, and that one is titled "Love" and has been written in green.

A few more feet to my right there is yet another switch, and this time I can't read the word, but I can