I have been waking up at 7am every day since I arrived in California. I am not a morning person. I am a night owl who has creative bursts late after midnight and will stay up whilst my muse is still whirling around my head, whispering yes, yes. I always wanted to be that person who gets ups joyfully at 5am to write, and meditate and practise yoga.
There is something magical about that time of the day, no minds ticking as most are asleep, little heads nodding on pillows bobbing in their dreams. I always think that time of day has a sheen over it, as if somebody covered the morning with candyfloss and we tread softly, coated in it.
The house is still quiet. I can hear the birds singing and the Los Angeles traffic has begun. The space that I fell into when I woke is disappearing, the sugar is melting but I am not yet spun.