Sunrises, in the silence of a morning.
Birdsong, and sleeping windows. Fresh breeze, footsteps echo. Why do they echo so early in the morning?
Why does everything seem louder, somehow?
And goodness, why does the world feel so fresh, when only a few hours earlier the atmosphere was simmering in the drunken, filthy haze of a long, lived-out day?
Your lovely photo is a delightful answer to your questions.
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Thank you! I think the morning is such a magical time ๐
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Imagine the rest the earth gets when WE sleep. ๐
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Never thought of it like that, wow. Yes, imagine. How utterly peaceful. A time to rejuvenate, perhaps? ๐ Thank you for this thoughtful input!
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๐ You’re welcome OB.
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