As a consequence of the most gruesome civil unrest the great nation 109 ever witnessed, his entire family was to be found only in the dust that filled the room. He survived that horrendous attack owing to his absence in the mansion that day. He had gone for a walk in the forest, wanting to tussle with his rage, which was caused by a quarrel between him and his father.

He doesn't think of the real-life anymore, it ceased to exist on the day he heard his family scream for help as they were set ablaze in their mansion by the embers of hatred that the villagers had for his father and the government he worked for. The same government which, after the incident, abandoned the nation's smallest district without even a proper evacuation. Deeming the trembling buildings unfit for production and the ashy land unfit for agriculture; they didn't even give a thought to allotting the district with a new authority.

He still has nightmares in which he hears his family moan in pain as the last flickers of fire melt away all the faculties that had enabled them to live. All the while he remains silent, trying to trick his mind into believing that all of those cries are imaginary and only the sound from the babbling river is real. What he sees is not merely an apparition of his fears but what happened that day. He is what he calls a coward, he has no reason to live anymore and hence, he lives in his dreams, a life far from grief, solitude and shame.

This way of his, I think is like a bubble, infinitesimal and inconspicuous; yet, terribly strong, maybe frozen. It's like a blister on the surface of a frozen lake. It hides this infinitesimally insignificant patch of ice; and while the rest of the lake turns grey with the dirtied snow that covers it, the patch of ice preserved in the bubble stays untouched till the summer. And then it melts into the same dertied water, thwarting the bubble of its futile efforts..... But this is not important; what is important is that even though, with that summer the water forgets of the bubble, he never forgets that he still exists and he must live on. That life is but a very small gift, a puzzle of moments. A shattered, hollow glass crystal pieced together with moments that don't fit. 

There's no end or start to a period of happiness or sadness but just moments. Many gone, many yet to come. And when all are assembled and regarded as a few hours, It reminds you of the answer to 'Why do I live?'

In the real world, the woeful winter shall never pass for him. Here, he is what one might call "disturbed", but not according to me. Every day, he walks along the river, sits under his favourite tree, all the while penning what he dreams.

He has such purpose.................and freedom.

He is the most intriguing person I've come across; he has the most indulging thoughts that make me want to observe his stream of consciousness all day.

The alarm goes off. I've done it again, spent the whole night sleepless, watching Matthew indulge in his dreams.

I don't know what it is but watching him live another day in his fantastic world, makes me see my own life under a warmer light. He changes my answer to the question: 'Why do I live?' I find myself appreciating the beauty of the small things like the water droplets clinging to the delicately dwindling strands of the spider webs on my chandelier.

He enables me to question the couth of the nation 109 and its pretentious Justice. And then, watching Matthew's real-life routine of having the breakfast which I sent him the night before, on a burnt dinner table, surrounded by three mirrors, each painted with the intention of transforming his reflection into a member of the French family from his dreams; gives me a weird sense of hope. Hope to do something meaningful that day.

I get ready for my job and in the mirror, I see a Caucasian man staring back at me, a man who is a coward. I see a man who can't stand against the people who killed his favourite cousin's family. I see a man who is not humane enough to be called one, for he hasn't got the mind to meet and console the only living member of his deceased cousin's family: Phan Matthew.