Sundays


Last night was a medley of poetic verses said until it was four in the morning and then I couldn’t keep myself from sleeping.

Daybreak means the sun showing up right outside my window in its own inclined ways and waking me up no matter what stage of the sleep-cycle I reach.

It took me a while to make sense of the world. It was like 8ish and breakfast is served only till 9 so I had to wake up and catch up with coffee. Dense with sleep we had coffee with Jazz playing in our room. That’s how we like it, our Sunday mornings until its almost noon and then we have to think about the next week and all the work due.

Then I check WhatsApp. Its offering of weird people living in bitter denial and self pity or happy people you just love. I’m sure there are other categories but that’s besides the point. Now I’m sifting through all the work I have to do as I steal a fleeting look at the laundry basket crying for help.

I’m glad I had a few good laughs, read some good stuff by Jeet Thayil and a short story by Neil Gaiman. Also the poetry of dreams at night. Beyond leagues 🙂

Arrividerci

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