four forty-two in the afternoon

It's four forty-two in the afternoon and it's raining outside.

I've been reading all day, except for some emails I sent and making something to eat.

I was cleaning my years just now, with the last cotton bud in the box and suddenly, I had this clear sensation of an end and a beginning. I'm not sure what those represent, if they represent anything more than an impression in my mind. And end to what? A beginning of what?

Isn't it strange to think about a new beginning in a random moment like that?

It's like the first moment of consciousness in somebody sleeping, or the first spark of light in the darkness.