My favorite time to be awake is early mornings, when the sunlight begins to creep up over the horizon as night slowing races to the other side of the world. Garbage men walk grumpily with coil in there eyes and the seagulls walk the streets as if soaring the skies. It’s that sentimental melancholy that make my heart race, the chirping of birds and the distant roaring of car engines as overnight drivers edge closer to their destinations. It’s the click clack of dog claws as they take their morning walks and the frustration of owners forced to face morning before dawn has truly broken. It’s a tender nod from the old men who sits on the corner , searching through time or memories and staring at the future. I love those mornings where crisp air gives you the thrill of being alive. Still what I yearn for is the perfect silence of nature, a secret concerto played by wind and trees and accompanied by the voices of the birds.