Friday, July 25, 2014


The morning wakes slowly, with small dark sounds that fill and swell with the promise of a new day. It starts off shyly. A few car doors. A gentle good morning whispered between neighbors. The call of birds, rallying the world with their chirpful cries. Morning is what you make of it. Me? I imagine that the trees are the conductors, guiding the morning toward an evening crescendo.


  1. Gummed up eyes filter my world as my hesitant feet stumble out of bed. The weather's blessedly cooler and I greet our mewling adolescent felines as they wind about me, urging me downstairs, keen to be fed. Another day in the life of a British male begins.

    Good day, folks!


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