Sunday. Everyone is gone and I am painting. the table is covered in paints, glass bottles and teacups. I am dreaming. Dreaming about where I would like to be, live, breathing in mountain air and barefoot along the canyons. My mind is drifting with its fluttering birds wings and I can’t keep up, galloping on. Today coffee lightly sweetened with coconut milk is my company. From my library, my books of poetry are echoing my name like a silent ghost only I can hear.