Commute

There's a navy velvet sky this morning, and the swish of traffic is drowned out by busts of cheery birdsong. It's not dawn, but it's coming, and the birds know what's up. I might have dressed and prepared tea, quietly - some still sleep at this hour - but it felt far from the empty…

Marichasana D is my Nemisis

I know it's coming. This isn't like turbulence on a plane that can come out of nowhere, despite the pilot's pre-flight discussion of the air conditions and the weather. This isn't like the way the weather shifts and buckles in the summer or in the winter, tolerable one day, painful the next. This is always…

Silence.

They laughed and told me to enjoy the silence. It wasn't until the snow started falling again, that I remembered how quiet without can be. Most mornings, the birdsong bursts through, but I've been sleeping, guilitly, late while the rest of the world gets into its commutes and car rides and cubicles. I wonder if…