Every day, for a fleeting moment, Vimo becomes a genius.
In those minutes, the fog of life lifts. Everything aligns perfectly, and solutions to his problems reveal themselves effortlessly. He sees the path to his ambitions with unshakable clarity, feeling invincible—like the universe itself has whispered its secrets to him.
But the moment he becomes aware of this clarity, it begins to slip away, like a child reaching for a bubble that bursts in their grasp.
These moments bring Vimo his greatest joy, but also his deepest misery. At first, he spends entire days chasing that state, trying desperately to summon it back, but it never returns on command. When he finally gives up, resigned to its elusiveness, the clarity visits him again—unexpected, unearned, and just as fleeting.
He comes to see the universe as a cruel and mocking trickster, offering glimpses of infinite possibility only to snatch them away. It is the ultimate irony: the secrets of life are given, felt, and known—but only for a moment, before they dissolve like smoke.
Clarity visits briefly; action keeps it.