3:19 AM Colors melt into one another. Unable to distinguish themselves from each other in the pale luminence of the almost-forgotten moon. Nothing reveals any trace of life. Not even the wind chooses to gallop through the trees, dancing to the sound of its own whistles. All appear abandoned, desolate, and mournful. Their pain cries out in monotones. Their suffering sends chills down your spine. So melancholy does the morning look as it draws every ray of light from the sky and destroys it right before your eyes.