It never quite bothered me when my day would only rouse at 3 in the afternoon, half of the day gone and the rest spent nursing a hangover in front of the telly. Perhaps now that the eager passions of my youth have cooled, and I’ve recovered my sense of sobriety, I’m starting to lean towards quieter nights and earlier mornings.
I enjoy waking up to a lush garden for a quiet stroll, as opposed to stepping out on a dusty balcony for a fag, 15 floors up from endless construction. I never thought I would ever trade my city slicker life for an urban retreat but while this comfort lasts, I’m happy renouncing late nights for brighter mornings ahead.
Here are snippets from my mornings in the garden with blooming flowers and a very excitable dog named Eva.