In the hollows of quiet places
we may meet,
the quiet places where is neither
moon nor sun,
but only the light of amber and
pale gold
that comes from the Hills of
the Heart.
~ Fiona MacLeod
I thought about the perfection of the morning, tried to name what it is about the morning that is different from the rest of the day. Is it the stillness? And, I thought, often on Sundays there is an all-day silence, or on rainy days or during off seasons; whatever this perfection might be, it's more than the absence of noises made by humans and their machines... In the purity of the morning, I understand how much more there is to the world than meets the eye...