The mornings are beautiful.
The cold breeze and the fresh air. Anticipating to be warmed by the sunbeams of the still-rising sun. The crisp taste of the air. The middle-eastern morning air reminds me of the air in the mountains of Norway, where I grew up. The smell is not colored by anything or anyone. It just is.
There is something soothing about this sensation. Calming. It’s a fresh start to the day. The cover of night wipes away the worries of yesterday. It distances me from my troubles. They belong to yesterday now.
In the early morning hours, there are no external expectations. No pressures. No phone. No work notifications. No plans. What will the day bring?
I have no idea. How exciting.
The morning is a clean slate, a tabula rasa of the mind. My thoughts wander. I write this in my notebook. I am sitting in a cafe in a foreign country, together with foreign people, on the other side of the world, but I don’t mind.
The only worry I have in the morning is that time is running from me, that I have to log in, check-in, connect and stand up in my day job.
I wish the morning would continue.
