There is something I love about morning. The four to seven frame is best, the way it's bright in a subtle way, not yet illuminated with sun. It's the kind of day I would've gotten up early to make my parents pancakes when I was 9.I came bumbling into my room, still in underwear, to knock my ankles on the picture frame you gave me, which now sits in its permanent place on my bedroom floor. My poor ankles are sore now, but I think I might like the shape of the bruises.
Today it would be nice to go to the airport, or on the train.
