Way before the frenzy of the day to come, I stand alone in my borrowed garden, away from everything and everyone. I try to fit, to be a part of the calmness, and the beauty of the dawn.

Two turtedoves guard, perched on the edge of the house’s chimney. Taking turns, they look down on the neighbourhood, and coo to eachother, seeming to say “everything’s fine on my side, how about yours?”

The morning dew has not yet dried, giving a glitter look to the rainbow of late Summer flowers in bloom. The backyard is almost silent, so still that the steady hum of the bumblebees’ wings resounds as I sit in the middle of this little oasis.

Soon the city will shake its feathers up and welcome workers and travelers again. There will be action, even in the backstreets. Houses will get empty, stores will fill in. Stillness will have to wait for the sun sets again, inviting everyone to calm down again…

In the meanwhile, I sit in the garden. Time seems to have stopped. I wish it did, for a moment. Sitting alone in my borrowed little garden…