nostalgia

i long for cursive-script, swirly, sunday mornings... where the sun shines on the dust that floats through the stillness...

you inhale and exhale and watch the swirl pattern of the air alter and change for your intrusion...into the calm that was your former unconsciousness...

you note the shift, and stir slightly only to dig yourself deeper into the alternative... ignorant bliss. choosing not to be aware or a part of the madness that surely accompanies moving amongst our own kind. tired.

yet you rally and gather your reserves and face the day with memories of how much fun everything else was and is.

then, there is an instinctive pause... something is off...

no one else is bustling about at this hour, and you notice how the air is still. bewildered and bemused, you begin your motions.

swing your feet around,
place them on the floor,
gain your bearings,
rise,
walk...

the possibilities after those universal steps are endless...

you gain your bearings...

the 5-day weather forecast indicates that it is still indeed the weekend.

the edges soften, and the corners of your eyes release. you dig in a little deeper.

ah. ignorant bliss. yet for one more day.

flavor: delicious