In the morning after breakfast my habit is to pour a cup of coffee, Starbucks Sumatra if you please, and retire to the living room where I settle down on the sofa beneath an old wool Indian blanket with that cup of coffee between my hands.
And then I just lie there, drifting in and out, warmth of coffee, mind wandering, taking a sip of coffee when I please, mind wandering, thoughts expanding through formless expanses and wastes and lumber rooms of the universe. Woolgathering, I think on nothing, or on whatever tumbling images may cascade in slow motion through my mind's eye. Memories of old, incidents that come drifting up from somewhere deep within, fantasies, lazy daydreaming verging on lucid dreams...
The warmth of the coffee sends a shiver down my spine. I'm more than half asleep. Soft old wool blanket. Gaze drifting across the same few knick knacks and wall hangings on the far wall of the living room. Lazy in the early morning with a cup of coffee.
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