Coffee: Organic Sumatra Blend, Trader Joe’s Brand; tastes like green buds, which is bad at first but then kind of welcoming.
There’s something about the morning. It isn’t cynical like afternoon or relaxed like evening. Morning has the vigor to change it’s circumstances. It’s caffeine to the birds. The sunlight looks better than at any other time of day.
Mornings have always felt private. When I’m alone, they’re times to get things done. At work, even when it’s busy, they’re reclusive – the people you deal with and the problems you solve could only sit at your desk, no-one else’s. When I’ve been fortunate to spend a morning waking up with someone, the time goes slow like bee’s honey and it’s just as safe as the soft sticky stuff locked in buzzing hives.
As I’m writing this, it’s the afternoon and I’m thinking about everything I ought to be doing. Oh well.
Tar Baby, Toni Morrison
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“In the early morning on the lake sitting in the stern of the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he would never die.” – Ernest Hemingway, In Our Time