Institute of Light


A lone institute member, working overtime on a committee report, strays a little too far into the night. The trees outside the institute begin to buzz with a chorus of birds. Smells from a nearby bakery begin to waft in through the air-conditioning. The man or woman shivers apprehensively and looks out the window to the east. Dawn with her rosy fingers begins to stretch along the horizon. This is a moment to think. Is dawn just another mystery worn thin with repetition?

At the Institute of Light, another day begins.

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