Sometimes in the very early morning, just as the lid is raised up on the day, it is easy to believe in other worlds, other places. Where time is not a measure of the passing but of the staying still while life just passes through it, changing in its form of here and there and then and soon.
Who can know what is when using only what we’re given, when morning coffee steams and melts it all to now.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology