Dream-fugued, I come from the other place into morning. Morning – is it here? Yes, just. My blinds are open for this light. The warm pink tongue of sunrise licking at my window. The sky spilling its coral-orange, seeping edges of vermillion. I am slow-tempo, haze and mellow, before the tumult of to-do lists tumbles into today. Gently stretching into awake. Then rise and shine.