I woke up at dawn. Though the pains on my back persisted, I get out of bed hoping to start painting before the sun might peep through the cloudy sky. Arriving at the roof floor, I cared not about the stuff blown to scatter on the floor but start to paint immediately. The sun, peeped through the narrow grip from the thick clouds, cast a long golden trail to shimmer on the surface of the seawater. I was lucky enough to catch the scene before it diminished to change the overall phenomenal tone of the seascape. Without concerning about the color tones, shadows or the reflective light, which might affect my eyesight, I shifted my view further on the left to draft the physical objects like the block buildings below and the railing erects on the edge of the neighbor rooftop, and gradually composed a complex picture. Meanwhile my palm began to numb urging me to make a pause, so I quickly laid down a washy layer of paint, with my trembling brush, and leave the rest for the next morning to be completed, provided the phenomenal temperature might remains the same.