Tuesday, 30 March 2010

Impromptu Ballet, Anyone?

Waking up early, pulling a sweatshirt on over my jammies, opening the window to let in the scent from the bakery I live over, and watching the clouds march above the tops of the apartment buildings.

Turning on Iona, turning off the lights, letting young sunlight fall through the open window, pulling on socks, and soaring across the wooden floor. Stretching until my legs itch to dance, twirling so fast I get dizzy, breathing in the smell of fresh croissant, watching the city wake up and dancing it on its way.

Good morning.

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