Anise in the air and honey on my lips, drowsy half sleep and moving shadows, bracelets tinkle out the hours like stars. I am comfortable, relaxed, at home in this skin I am in, thinking of nothing in particular other than the next song, phyllo dough crackling on my tongue like snowflakes. Rarely am I so at peace with the moment I exist in, so disinterested in past and future and content to simply be. I am confident and sure of myself in a way which allows me to forget all of the doubts which normally suffuse me.

Everything. Is all right.

Some mornings, I wake up filled with certainty, knowing that today, this day, is going to be excellent, perfect, summer fruits eaten in lazy sunlight and skies perfect blue which stops the heart with purity, single white cloud looking staged in the middle of the horizon. Today is, yes, one of those days, in which every instant is pregnant with the meaning of life and I am surprised that everyone has not fallen deeply, utterly, irrevocably, in love with the world around them, flowers blooming and ocean whispering sweet nothings into air saturated with salt, water, sweetness, summer’s tang which is so often bittersweet but is today so vibrant, simply there.

Starry eyed surprise, eyes glassy with wonder and delight, the whole world must think I am stoned in love.