Under the dim glow of the street lamp at dawn, I stepped on the flimsy water left by the midnight rain and the wind began to howl. I met no body on the way to the park, except the guy stretching his body by the railing of the viewing platform. The staircase of the platform covered with small pools of shadow water making it dangerous to climb. So I climbed steadily up to the top and luckily find my place dry enough to stay. I laid down a several layers of plastic sheet on the stair to prevent the damp to infuse. I sat on the cold floor and began to find my view to paint. I thought it might easy to draft the extruded corner of the railing at the rooftop, yet it took me ages to sketch while the chill seemed to run through my body to the finger. Though I did not tremble but the finger became too numbly to manipulate the brush. I thought the picture was done and trying to pack, but when I heard the bell from the tennis court, consciousness returned from my absented mind, and then I felt shame looking at the awful picture. I took the dawning kit again to add patches of color saw from the scenery, which color might have be changed by the phenomenal source of light.