Most people wake up and reach for the noise. I reach for the quiet. First light, one long breath, and no reason to be anywhere else. If you were here, I would keep you exactly that still.
I move slow on purpose. It is the whole point. A stretch, a breath, the warmth coming back into the body without any hurry. You would feel me set the pace and you would follow it without thinking.
There is a kind of heat in going slow that fast never gets near. It builds. It stays. By the time the coffee is cold you have stopped watching the clock and started watching me.
That is the version of a morning I like best. Calm on the surface, something quieter running underneath. I decide when it lifts.
This is the part I show in daylight. The slower one, the one that does not stop when the sun is up, lives on my private side. Come find it there.