Early birds catch nothing

It might be the last hours of night for us humans, but for birds it is the starting of a day. The clattering voices tell me that they are all waking up. Tomorrow, there is some meeting in this hall. People were working here till late night. Some of them are still working. The lights are still on. I am waiting for the sound of milkman’s cycle bell. There is a house near that old big tree. When the milkman comes and rings the bell a lady with sleepy eyes will open the door. After collecting milk, she will wait there for a second or two, as if to let the remnants of yesterday’s dreams flutter off her eyes. Then she will close the door. Light will come out of a single window from that house. That window will remain open till late night. That is the kitchen window. Each morning through that window I see her. How can somebody work like that? Like Man in Painting, she also is trapped. Trapped in an image she herself had painted. (Or by other genius craftsmen?). Then the newspaper boy will come and boomerang the dispatch. The only art he might learn in his whole life…
(Man In Painting stops here, because he is getting emotional. He should obey the ‘Rule of the Frame’)
Man In Painting waits for all the early birds to wake him up to the present and save him from the past and future