Mourning Epiphanies:

The intellectual starts his day by asking, “is it really morning?”

By then, the opening of his eyes savors the burden of waking up — swollen eyes regurgitating excess baggage; his eyes cannot bear the distasteful anymore that waking up becomes an irritating turmoil.

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Jaye Vee Magpili

It should not mean but be ~ A typewriter for every lost epiphany.