6 minutes of writing on the sunrise
The damp morning air was a welcome smell, replacing the dingy odor of the bathroom on the bottom floor. I much prefer fresh cut grass and dew to stale water in a multi-hued brown toilet bowl. The air was so good to my nostrils that it invigorated my whole being begging me to take a second look at life. As I turned my thoughts around I turned my shoulders as well to glance on the eastern horizon. It was Valentines day in the sky. Between the roof eves of the walkway and the fading creme of the brick wall was an arrow straight canvas of reds and pinks. Maybe my heart beat more alive because red is the color of love and pulsing blood or maybe the sun rising at such an hour that I should still be in bed gave me a reason to rise myself.
