i am every inch a morning person.
Happy with this, the contented life. Parisian cafés on La Sienne, pâtisseries and crêperies on every corner. Charmant. But I admit I miss the sound of birds and bees. The dirty water lapping bridges and forcing itself up through the drains is no substitute for the rocky edges of the Bow and the meandering lines of the Rockies. While I may enjoy the good life, and lazy Sundays in the park, I am no more an urban girl than I am a pigeon, greeting the morning with the flapping of feathers and a mournful coo.
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I am left
with the task - picking up pieces of mind. What a mess. You were right: silence is not peace of mind. It's just the brain killing time. |
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November 2019
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