I awoke to a cloudless sky, to a red rooftop that reminded me of the far east, to my tea steaming warm against my face, to thoughts of hope to memories of the past.

I awoke to a day.

But I have not let go of all the yesterdays. It has remained in the crevices of my wrinkled hands.

I. I am. That feels strange, to actually recognize my self. To recognize the “I” before the world. To make “I” visible and the world…the world invisible.