February 2016
There is a strangeness to early mornings. I think it’s the light that shines in patches, from fluorescence to the dawn that has barely broken. Or it’s the coolness of the air, the breeze that gasps crisply. Or it’s the sound of calm, the peace that sticks to morning air. Or it’s all of these, the subtle variances of nature, while silently fleeting, are the beautiful kind of rare.