it was a cool, damp Sunday morning. The kind where you wish it would rain a little harder so you could stay in bed and listen to it, maybe crack the window a little bit. No music, or T.V. yet. The builders across the way seem to have gotten an earlier start than you have, so have some birds. Why aren't you up and about yet? What did you do yesterday that allows you to stay content under those covers? Maybe it was that walk. (what did I tell you about there always being "something"?) You're too busy collecting your thoughts, kind of like a finished game of blackjack. Picking up the pieces one by one until they form something bigger, cohesive. What's changed since you were younger? Well, age for one thing. Isn't that enough? By this time, those little black speakers are talking to you, and saying nice things for that matter. Have you ever been out in this city before it wakes up? That's how you want to live, free reign, peace & quiet. Sometimes this place is very insipid to you though. New. Lacking. All this music you've been listening to lately seems to run very parallel to your life. You can literally look to your left or right and see it running alongside you. Very weird. Not really mutualistic, because what can tiny, digital, electronic files gain from a human being? You love slash hate the idea of Robots taking over tasks that humans once did, like answering a phone or something. It's all very epic, and science fiction. Romantic, like one final battle between the 2, where humans win out solely based on the fact that we have the ability to Love. Muddled though. Convoluted.