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Monday morning in Parade

Fresh wildflowers in glass jars on marble tables. Every chair shows a different colour and the coffee is sweet. The reason might be the inevitable sweetness a flower cup with golden details brings to the earth. The old man, all dressed up in different shades of brown, shuffles to the counter after having read his newspaper front to back.

The plants are inviting and bring out childlike smiles from inside me, the urge to smile at the world, no matter what. I notice the man sitting three tables next to me has the same effect on me. Teenage giggles. Eye contact but not daring really. The music is soft, makes the process of waking up easier. It's like a prolonged dream, guiding humans from dream worlds slowly into reality. Softly, like there is no need to hurry. Because there isn't. The calendar says it's Monday but my mind is free. I smell is freedom and that's all there is. Oh, the great feeling when you wake up and the world is yours. Yours to discover, yours to play in.

And life is sweet.

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