morning thoughts 12.2.

She was a refuge of reality, hiding in between the pages of her book. From time and fear.
Until she realised that this fog of human beings still were the greatest inspiration that stole her breath this morning.
There was a fine man in his 30s, struggling with day but who had discovered the thoughts of his child were the ones that brought him happiness.
He wore a head like one of those French farmers, was covered in a black coat and his first grey hair. The only shiny thing about him was a scarf of sunshine’s colour and the smile of his little girl, discovering the name of train stations. She had the best time confusing all passengers by calling out any of those like a tiny priest at half past 8am. That kid had one great morning and thanks to her joyous soul,
I realised that I could have that too, if I only chose to let life in.


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