I like Sunday summer mornings. It’s the last morning, the last beginning. And, usually, is the only day – beginning in which I do nothing. Actually, I do a lot of things which, during the week, I don’t do: listen to music, sing at the shower (and I have time to commiserate my neighbours), I watch the best movies, I walk in the street. I have time to childishly fight with everybody. Only time.
Sunday morning in the summer, time is not anymore your enemy. It’s that old friend whom you once played chess, and he beat you. And it’s that old friend who made your hair white, who made your child an adult, who gave you a big bag of medicines…
But Sunday morning in the summer, it’s time for anything. Time to be time. Only time.
P.S.: It’s Saturday.
Maroon 5 – Sunday Morning/Songs About Jane