There is little more peaceful than being up early on a Sunday morning, particularly when that morning feels cold and breezy, and the half-light that falls through a gap in the curtain is muted and day dreamy. I can hear the sound of the sea from where I sit on my bed, a vast low end rumble, barely there, the sound of the distance. I hear cars pass by, doors open in the coffee shop across the passageway, but all seems kind and far away, as if these are sound from decades gone.
I peek through the curtains at the grey sky, that still light, and I am glad the sun has gone and it might begin to feel just a little bit like autumn.
