Excerpt

And I still want to know: what does your face look like at 5 am on a Sunday morning.

Hair unkempt, face unmade, with sleepy eyes, more in a dream then awake.

What a night has done the morning will bare. What the dinner had served the breakfast will top.

A shower alone or together, a word or many or none. Fear, by then is gone.

And what ever follows, can leave alone.

First, let’s move let’s dance another time.

And then see, what ever lunch will be.