Songs of morning note

Another Mondayne, and boy do I love it so..not that there's anything logical about loving any day of the week, but then logic is made of thin air and almost invisible and almost certainly one of the least fun things we've come up with. 

So another Monday, and I usually begin this day by staring at an immaculate white wall from the warmth of my bed. Stuck in smouldering recesses of my morning duvet, I stare and stare at this white wall that stays unmoved, expressionless, dead faced, resolute..stuck fastidiously to my ceiling (another favorite thing to stare at, usually at nighttimes)..it's callous, cold and calming. 

Some mornings you wake and hate, while some, you wake and ache. I like them both..the hating ones and the aching ones.

Weekdays, specifically Monday's feel like a thin white rivulet, you're free to do with it as you please, you could muddy your toes with a kaleidoscope of colours and smudge the white waters into a vibgyor sludge, or dip a finger soiled with coal black soot, and watch the white assume a monochromatic hue..or just enjoy the view of the white rivulet flow into the vast ocean of everyday empty while you get on with routinely flinging stones into its abysmal waters. 

But this is just another weekday, in the long line of remaining weekdays you're yet to see, and some say you should unwrap each day like a present, which kind of feels a bit underwhelming because for some reason presents have always been something I've never loved unwrapping—simply because they're usually disappointing, more so because I've never really known what I've actually seriously wanted for a present.

So unwrapping presents is no fun, but opening little notes..now that's a treasure. More fun, exciting even breathtaking, heart palpitating than any present I've ever known to exist. Shrouded in mist, cloaked in allegory and allusion, dressed in symbol and euphemism—little notes with a picture or a line, little notes with a thousand rambling words or poetic smile, little notes with an emoji wink or whispering voice. Each perfumed note redolent of a sigh, intensity that sings in chorus, passion simpatico and blahs of life.