Sunlight shines under the door like a ghoul's grin, yet gives the shutters a halo of golden rays. That's the new morning, sinner and saint, just like me. Waking is a hammer swung with gusto, a painted "x" on my skull. Sleep drags me backward until a new thought can penetrate - I have the chance to achieve more than yesterday if I move now. The bed is warm, the draughts are cold, yet my feet swing outward into the chill...