This photo is nothing much, I took it on Friday Morning.
I walked out of the door half asleep, with bed hair, barely seeing where I was putting my feet, lazily yawning at 7.30 to put the rubbish out, my trembling hands holding the plastic bag, when I saw this. Seeing it, reminded me of why I love mornings and why I love getting up early to witness them. Mornings hold a promise. A promise that should something go wrong, should catastrophe strike, should the unexpected happen you have the rest of the day to fix it, or at least tackle it. That you have plenty of sand in that hourglass to do whatever is needed. I see it. I read it in that blue.