I woke up unusually early today—5am—and, instinctively, like a true slave to devices, immediately lunged for my MacBook.
But then ... I decided to do something different, to lend my senses to early morning stimuli instead.
Initially, the early morning is still; it assumes a certain reverence. Life stirs slowly, almost reluctantly; sleep is willed into exile. Soon, sounds shatter the hush of morning. A loud, rowdy motorcycle slices through the silence, echoing across city blocks like a long, angry growl.
Voices ascend to the sixth floor weakened to a whisper; from an apartment above, a burst of laughter cascades the balcony and falls as mere chuckles. In stark contrast are shrill, sharp chirps of a thousand swallows.
A streak of orange-colored light declares the coming of the sun; the increasing incandescence thrills me; I feel a sentiment of delight . . .