When is it the midday? Is it the sun shines right above your heads, or the moment when the hour hand touches the minutes hand, or the moment between sun falls and moon rises? The portfolio was named as Midday, sharing its quality of pointing towards somewhere uncertain, suggesting a vaguely narration that weaves between those images and texts. Rather than mentioning an absolute middle of something, midday is ambiguously situated somewhere that you could only know is neither the beginning nor the end. Several poems in the set are also informed by this idea, i.e., a countdown without numbers, starting a day again with an all-day breakfast, many of those twisted the usual understanding of things, of how the rigid concepts could be untied and break down into fragments and indefinite pieces.