DAY:

Things are different today. The breeze no longer whispers upon our cheeks, but slaps us pink with it flippy-flappy chuckles. The Autumn leaves turned to Winter whisperings, now damp with humidity do not crunch beneath our footsteps on empty Sunday pavements, but lie submissive dreaming of the lost dancing’s of yesterday. The terns sit silently in awe of the chippy-choppy mother Med waiting for the wind´s advice. Father Sun does not dare peep at us today & has decided to stay under his duvet of rolling grey clouds, comfy & safe, tucked up with Mother Moon. Another ordinary day, but oh so different and I still feel blessed.