Image from HERE
Cosy was the air she breathed that morning, as the raindrops fell on tin roofs around and she awoke with sleep in her eyes and in her ears and on her mind. Wrapped in cream and grey of pillows, sheets and downy quilt.
A morning with no arrangements made and no reason to get up, except the kettle called with a sweet whistle and she could already feel the cold winds blowing in the drafts. So she got out of bed shedding her skins and picking up new ones.
Cosy were the slippers surrounding her feet, a sloppy jumper, satin leapard print pyjamas and a beret for good measure
Green Tea and a cigarette on the balcony, watching the smoke drift out into the storming surrounds and the waves crash violently, relentlessly on the already disappearing sandy shore. A day with nothing to do, warm in her apartment, no reason to do anything but relax as the storms roll on and past and the day does the same.
Warm is her heart to have this space in time to be and have it just for her.
Warm and Cosy.