Rising before dawn is one of my most intimate joys. Sometimes those mornings seem eternal. The sunrise is a little slower. The coffee goes down just a tad more deliciously. The dog’s snoring a little more comforting. Every sound my 104-year old apartment makes is some sort of joyful, secret whisper. The world seems a little quieter outside. It’s mornings like that I feel hyper present, in tune with and touching every slight nuance of everything.
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