I wake up every morning to the smell of the moist green grass, mother nature at its best creeping in through the old wooden walls.
The bright shine of the sun rising makes me close my eyes.
I like to listen to the the old rooster announcing the new day, the birds singing next to the window, and the dogs barking at the pale, sad man from across the street whose name I don't know.
I like the way the breeze that comes in through the window gives me a chill and the way I step slowly onto the creeking wooden floor and its coldness works itself up from the bottom of my feet and tigles itself  to my back and neck.
I enjoy the way the calm morning passes by carefully like an autum leaf falling of a tree.