I'm sitting in my studio, not the one I share with others, the one full of ideas and posters and ink, but the one in my house. The one I share only with the cat who loves when all the windows are open and she can "mew" at the birds on the tree out front. Currently it's full of things, papers on my desk, picture frames stacked in the corner, my roommate's photo area set up to photograph the bow ties he's been making lately. I sit in here and listen to the cars drive by and the other sounds outside. No talking, just birds and the upstairs neighbors footsteps. The breeze is wonderful and it just smells perfect, I can't explain it. Like how "outside" used to smell when you were a kid in the summer. I'm used to smelling chocolate throughout the day from hours at work, sweet cookies baking. Or ink, mineral spirits from cleaning. Dinner cooking. Though I think this may be my favorite smell of all, the morning coming through the sunroom windows. I often find myself waking up and enjoying some moments of silence like this lately (perhaps it's a summer thing?) and I love them. I'm glad to sit and appreciate and think for a moment about how beautiful so many things are. Maybe I'm getting older and time just seems to move too fast. If spending my immediate waking hours like this, sprinkled with walks to Nantucket Bakery or attempting to make from-scratch-oatmeal as well as my boyfriend, become the norm I think I could be completely happy with that. Good morning all.