Good morning Sunday

The day outside my window looks quiet and cool, not cold, just cool. The sunshine is soft and almost unnoticeable... I just found it because I looked for it. I found it.
Last night was long. My brain didn't want to go to sleep and my eyes were too busy looking for shapes in the dark to care for a little rest. My feet longed for fresh air, yes, my feet, not my lungs. I wanted to walk on the wet grass and get my eyes tired with the air coming from-- there.
But I didn't go outside. Too many crazy people in this side of town. I should know, I'm one. I got up and wrote a list of things to do today, of things to find today-- where's that letter I need to return? Where's that box?
The sunshine is still there, by my window. I haven't lost it yet. I want to take a picture, but I'll take it with my mind-- sorry you'll have to imagine, no visual for you today. It's just that my mind is less blurry that the image of that box. The sunshine is almost gone, peering through the natural-looking shades that keep the one out from looking in. It divides the image in litlle lines, as if cut with a small blade and put back together funny.
But I can see the leaves moving, from line to line. It's mostly green, I see. Thought the brown of the shade blends with the brown of the trees and then I realize that it's mostly brown, I see.
My space is too crowded. Do you want to buy some paintings?
Do you want to get some books? How about some old t-shirts. They're great for cleaning brushes, or counter tops.
Beads. A blue sun-moon. Several newspaper clippings, one of the "starbucks nation" article I liked. And one of the selling of St. Andy. I also have canvas... I don't have the frames yet. And I have too many containers, I can't contain my soul.
Last night was a long night.
I walked on the streets of Alajuelita and San Jose, and I was lighter. I drew sunsets and faces and people were buying my art. It was enough to get me some coffee on that famous and very expensive cafe in the corner of that block.
Then I went back to the living room in the A building, third floor. A 31. And the floor was cold. It's because it was tile. Tile is better than carpet... in hot nights. I laid there, and sang.
Then the night was long, and I forgot the rest.