Before the World Wakes

Before the World Wakes

It was 5:42 a.m., and the city was still asleep.

No cars, no noise — just a soft breeze brushing the pavement and the balconies of dimly lit apartments.

And in the heart of that silence, Sami sat on a small chair by his open window, cradling a cup of coffee with both hands.

His mornings didn’t start without this moment.

Not because of the caffeine — but because he believed that this time, before the world wakes, was the only time he was truly honest with himself.

By day, he was a designer — creating for others, chasing deadlines, presenting ideas that weren’t really his.

But at dawn, he belonged to no one.

That morning, he pulled out an old sketchbook, long buried under piles of projects and responsibilities. For the first time in months, he drew. A shaky line… then two eyes… then the face of someone he didn’t recognize — yet it somehow looked like him.

Quiet. Alone. Smiling, gently.

With each sip of coffee, his spirit breathed, his thoughts calmed, and his heart felt something close to peace.

He whispered to himself:

“Before the world wakes… I find myself again.”

As the sun began to stretch into the sky, he softly closed his sketchbook and stood.

He knew the day would soon weigh on him again.

But for now —

he had enough to carry him through.

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It was 5:42 a.m., and the city was still asleep.

No cars, no noise — just a soft breeze brushing the pavement and the balconies of dimly lit apartments.

And in the heart of that silence, Sami sat on a small chair by his open window, cradling a cup of coffee with both hands.

His mornings didn’t start without this moment.

Not because of the caffeine — but because he believed that this time, before the world wakes, was the only time he was truly honest with himself.

By day, he was a designer — creating for others, chasing deadlines, presenting ideas that weren’t really his.

But at dawn, he belonged to no one.

That morning, he pulled out an old sketchbook, long buried under piles of projects and responsibilities. For the first time in months, he drew. A shaky line… then two eyes… then the face of someone he didn’t recognize — yet it somehow looked like him.

Quiet. Alone. Smiling, gently.

With each sip of coffee, his spirit breathed, his thoughts calmed, and his heart felt something close to peace.

He whispered to himself:

“Before the world wakes… I find myself again.”

As the sun began to stretch into the sky, he softly closed his sketchbook and stood.

He knew the day would soon weigh on him again.

But for now —

he had enough to carry him through.