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I live those hours of morning, the time that I wake up, between 7:00 and 8:00 and sometime, later, between 8:00 and 9:00. You are still in bed, fast asleep, I know you stayed up later then I did, I remember falling asleep last night, in bed, fully dressed, with the book on the floor and me, wanting to just finish the page, finish the chapter, before I doze off, but failing, and without brushing my teeth or taking my pants off, I drifted into the night, without giving you a kiss good night.

I wake up, and it feels so early, I lay in bed, sometimes when I start wrestling out of sleep, and you move, I talk to you, in Hebrew, forgetting that you don't know the language - I say "hold me, I had a bad dream" or move aside I need to go to the bathroom" and you, in a sleepy tone of voice say "what?" but your arms and legs and body does exactly what it was that I was asking you to do, as if this twilight time between morning and night, between awake and asleep, is also a twilight time between English and Hebrew, and our bodies understanding one another without the actual need of words.

I lay in bed, reading the signs of how the day's going to be, I look into the room first and watch the light - cold or warm, harsh sunshine light or dim quite clouded light or that barely visible light of a darkened skies that say it's going to be rainy today. I look through the window and see only sky, and sometime a top of a building, but from where I lay, although I can see the colors and the clouds, I can't say if it's windy or not. Eventually I move your arms that's holding me, you move around, kiss me, more then half asleep but noticing I'm out of the bed.

In our apartments the remains of yesterday, are there papers on the floor from me drawing or doing prints the night before, no, not this morning, there are cloths on the couch, mostly mine, that i need to go over, see what's smelly enough to go to the laundry, what's still half fresh and can go back to the closet. There are a pair of training pants and a top I wore to the yoga class last night, both smell like sour sweat, a pair of black pants that I in the last few days, a red top, one long sleeves wool button down shirt that I wore when the weather was getting chillier, and rainy. It's not winter yet, you say, it's not even autumn, it's hurricane in Florida weather, the way it effect where we are, so far away, and yet, we do feel it, that suspend in the air.

There is paper work on the floor, yours, that you took out a few days ago, to look for some old receipt for the phone number of a computer technician, there are papers I dyed with tea that were left to dry behind the couch, the new "Time out New York" magazine on the floor by the bed from where I set yesterday and read it. a couple of cups in the sink, a glass I found in the stairway, It's not messy, but the apartment feels very lived in, almost, like a home to me, I love waking up here in the mornings.

I love waking up and talking to my friends in Israel, or writing e-mails or drawing while my big headphones are on and I'm listening to an audio book, stories about magic and dragons and daemons and people who traveled great distances and how those traveling changed their lives. I love looking towered the bed every few minutes, and depending on the weather, seeing you sprawled, naked, over the bed, or huddled into a covered ball, only your feet and the top of your head peeking from under the cover, I love trying to wake you up, and you, falling back to sleep telling me you only need a couple more minute as I go back to whatever it is I was doing.

I go to the bathroom and look through the window, seeing the trees from the other side of the Highway, moving softly in the wind, and the gray white sky, I listen to the rhythmic tapping from the stamp factory in the building next to the one the apartment's on. To cars and big trucks on the BQE, their constant noise sounds like wave of the ocean or wind in the tree tops. I sit on the toilet and pee, dark yellow urine, back at the computer I see a full glass of water I intended to drink last night and forgot, and know that I didn't drink enough yesterday.

I love the quietness of our mornings, I love those hours I spend between awakens and sleeping, I don't need to go to work to rush I can just enjoy this graduate awakens back into the day, I sit on the couch, still covered in cloths, and read a Hebrew book till I finish it, and my mind is full of beautiful imagery and description of nature and love and everyday life, some of which I know, some of which I only heard or read of. The way the language - simple, precise and poetic mingle with my thoughts the feels, in comperasom, heavy, poor and confused between two languages.

I light the fire on the stove under the heavy iron pan and heat water until they boil and I pure them over a bag of strong Orange Pekoe black tea and I remember that again, I forgot to buy some milk and sugar for it and I just drink it black like that slowly till by the end of the cup, the last sip is already cold.