A Routine

I watched the sun rise as I waited for yoga to start—over the track and through the mist, and then I saw it set, out the window, back over my right shoulder, as I sat in my reading chair by the window in our apartment.

I wonder about the people I’ve seen with water bottles early in the morning. They seemed to have just filled them up, and then they go traipsing back into the brush—where they live?

Only three sounds permeate my days in the our studio apartment in this solid cement building where we live and work: the hum of the space heater, a wide range of whistling, cawing, crying, chirping birds and the tick of the clock.

Here's a picture of our security guard. See how quiet it is!