Even though I am not a morning person, I do have to admit that you get more out of a day when you wake up early.
Since I have lost the ability to sleep any time before midnight (heck, before 2 AM during summer), the earlier I wake up the more hours I get. At least that’s what I feel like is happening, with a constant yawn in my jaw.
I do like the dusky sunshine of the morning. And the sweet breeze you get just before noon.
I also like going to breakfasts with friends I have not seen over a year, and still being able to chat away three hours without a pause.
I like the fresh tea, and the still-warm bread.
I like seeing the traces of the night before in the streets.
The shattered glass of a beer bottle being sweept away. The drying rain on the pavement. The dew on every other flower.
I like the quiet, that is, the accumulation of the softer noises like a pot of tea boiling and old ladies conversing and newspaper pages turning.
I don’t like this city, as much as I used to. Well, I don’t even know how much I liked it before. But I like it sometimes. From certain angles. In certain lights.
So when I spend a morning with an old friend, by the sea, remembering the good things, and parleying the better, I do like this city.