I like to wake up early to watch the sunrise. The sun hits the distant city first, the little sliver of it I can see through the trees. The buildings light up copper against the pale pink sky, and that little sliver is the only bit of saturation in an otherwise grey visual field. Then the sun starts to rise over the hill behind me. My house casts a blue shadow across the street, and a few trees start to get washed in pale gold. The fog burns away.

I sit at my window for an hour, and I don’t check my phone once. It's in another room. It doesn’t matter.

I have thoughts, looking down at the people below me. Most of them are fleeting, the kind of thing I think about texting to my boyfriend, but instead I let them pass. If something is worth remembering or exploring, I’ll write it down in a notebook, or on my digital typewriter. Sometimes it’ll become a 1500-word essay, sometimes a poem or a song. Often, the thought just stays there, to be returned to, turned over in my mind until I’ve figured out the larger shape of it.

I [...]

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Narrated by TYPE III AUDIO.