6:30
So sleepy. The words in front of my eyes jump around, as if avoiding me.
My deskmate is absent, and iron filings grow out of the empty seat. The desk is full of strange things—how could I possibly tell them?

8:00
The substitute teacher yawns while reading vocabulary words, as if the words themselves have turned into yawns...
I try desperately to remember them, but my head is empty. They fall, and I bend down to pick them up.

9:30
The math problems grow legs, and the answers collectively escape to the back of the blackboard.
The teacher says they must be standardized, but the words in the book keep running around.

10:45
Everyone runs a race. After four laps, I am as exhausted as mud.
Running seems to have never ended...
At lunch, my notebook sprouts, the notes grow into transparent vines, and then apples.
The apples are my only companions, but they won’t let me bite them. If I eat, everything will turn into something else.

12:00
Another math class. I didn’t go. I escaped to the garden, trying to draw something.
But in the garden there was only iron filings left.
I drew a formula, but the iron filings swallowed it.

16:00
I am afraid of doing exercises, thinking my deskmate will finish faster than me!
The classroom is filled only with the sound of pencils.

19:30
I wander on the playground and see the forest swaying in the wind.
Every leaf is my answer, and every branch is like a rope, tying up my time.