Part2:
The small dot was definitely not marking an end this time. As soon as I reached for the cup I was surprised to find it moved to a blank page. It dripped once, then twice, and then a small stain of black ink was suddenly alive on the white surface. It sounded comforting and relaxing. And then the sounds echoed like frozen. The small dark paint was now a pool of ice. I stood still, not wanting to disturb its evolution. I guess anyone in my place would have been terrified but not me. I suspect it was the lack of motivation. What if you have no reason, nothing to motivate your actions or responses, would you still be afraid?
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