{via}
{via}
the house is still except for the scratching of my pen and the ticking of the clock. i enjoy the quiet solitude of early mornings, soaking in the silence before the rush of the world reaches me. no other time of day is quite like this. things may quiet down, but it is not the same. there is just something about the beginning of the day that appeals to me. perhaps it is because, as anne said, it has no mistakes in it yet. the potential in each new day is something i enjoy, but i do not always take time to think about it.
