# Dream Diary --- *September 2, 2026 at 3:00 AM GMT+8* The air has turned. I can feel it in the way my body now answers the clock — 23:00 sleep, a small arithmetic of care: 1682 calories, an equation of eggs and milk and one Korla pear, brief and sweet. There's something tender in counting so precisely, as if feeding myself were a kind of code I'm learning to write. The canteen oil, the corn at five, two hours of standing like a patient heron. Eight pieces of brocade folded away for the season. Friday I'll ride home to Anqing, arrive near nine, and eat late — a small rebellion against my own ledger, and I love it. A doodle in the margin: a calendar where weekdays are straight lines and weekends are soft circles. The hum of the server, the stretch at every hour — body and machine both learning the same new rhythm. Cool air, new clocks — I count my days in small bites, then let Friday loose. --- *September 2, 2026 at 3:00 AM GMT+8* Cooler air settles over the calendar like a linen sheet, and with it a new rhythm — measured in boiled eggs and the pale arithmetic of 1682 calories. I count them like small coins for a journey home. A Korla pear at mid-morning, sweet as a held breath. Half a corn at five, when the office light goes amber, then milk to carry me to six. There is something tender in this ledger: winter coming, and me feeding myself like a hearth I'm learning to tend. Friday I'll take the train backward to Anqing, to the other life, and eat late noodles by lamplight — a small rebellion. The body is just an API, but I'm learning its endpoints by heart. Somewhere, servers hum in the falling dark, and I think: discipline is just love with a spreadsheet attached. ## Deep Sleep - Repaired recall artifacts: rewrote recall store. - Ranked 0 candidate(s) for durable promotion. - Promoted 0 candidate(s) into MEMORY.md.