1 A.M ~ A dying old man takes his last cold breath, while the tiny hands of his grand daughter clutches his, numbing his pain with warmth.

3 A.M ~ Four teenagers are up, awake, and have snuck out of their cruel homes, escaping the life of difficulty. When they return back, getting an earful from their parents and a grounding for a month, they smile as they remember the looks of calm in one another’s faces; when they watched the night breathe silently and the stars dancing to the melody of the sky.

6 A.M ~ Young Sam slowly gets out of bed, dreading the rest of the day to come. School, homework, and chores. He sits still for a minute, before raving shouts from his two older brothers meets his ears. The tones a mix of glee and suspense. Why are they so dumb, he wonders, before they rush into his room, grabs his head, pull away his window’s curtains and forces him to peer into the darkness. The stillness frozen, the silence grim. Then all three of them burst out in joy, roaring “Snow! Snow! Snow!”

11 A.M ~ A big bird somewhere in the world is scouring a desert, starving, desperate for the tiniest grain of food. In the blaze of noon it swoops down between the mountains of sands, scorching to the touch, ready to meet its end; when it suddenly comes across a bag of bread enough to last a grown bird a day. It was about to make haste to feast when six, small, skinny bird-lings come up beside him. Too weak to flap their wings to live, but too young to perish in the sands, the big bird flies away. Six more big birds will grow to replace him one day.

3 P.M ~ A national peace conference is taking place, a small man with a powerful voice is giving a speech. He had once earned a medal of honour, earning him a right to speak to his fellow people on that day. At first he seemed proud, but as minutes passed the people grew to love him and his words inspired thousands in seconds. But then darkness loomed… For in the distance a sniper fired, and a small man fell dead, his medal of honour stained red. In the future he will live as just a memory, though his powerful voice inspires on…

5 P.M ~ I sit in my small, cramped study, air-conditioning chilling my bones, fingers typing away. Closing my eyes, I hear the smooth sounds of rush hour traffic and the mutterings of an old hag somewhere in my tv. Opening them, I type away at a slower pace.

7 P.M ~ The sun is setting, couples have parked their cars on Lover’s Hill, watching the sun set. A sea of orange and red streaks, with an wash of blue and the smell of twilight. Nothing is said, nothing is heard, but the young romantics communicate in a language forgotten by many older folk. A language engraved into our very souls.

8 P.M ~ Gunshots, blood, and cries. A corner lot has been robbed, people have been hurt. Robbers fire away, police volleying back; while the innocent are caught in the cross-fire. “Surrender and no more blood will be shed!” Somebody barks. But the shooters carry on, fingers squeezing the trigger like second nature. The chaos doesn’t last forever, as the robbers fall one by one. Policemen too fall, but fall because of the damage of battle, their hearts in pain as they couldn’t save all of the innocent.

11 P.M ~ A mother cries in her hospital ward, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. But a smile is on her face, a smile of forever lasting love, as she cradles her newborn child; hearing the heavens sing as the little girl mumbles to her cries of happiness.

Different hours, different places, but all of the above happened at the same time.

While you are busy with your life, life is busy around you.

One should remember that he or she is part of a world, a world with many lives; and we all live as one at the same time…