The sound of cars slowly creeps into my dreams, light shines through the cracks in my painted wooden blinds. I slowly raised my head off the pillow that I had rested my head on overnight and that now had a sizeable dent where my head was and. I flung my blanket aside and crawled slowly, my bed creaking under my weight, to the ladder to climb down, I open my door and walk slowly down the flight of stairs where I catch hold of a banister which guides me down to the bottom where light peaks through the frosted glass in a door defining the room with a warm glow, the living room a small boxy room with a peeling ceiling and a multitude of abstract art hung like tapestries against the wall.
I walk into my kitchen glancing at the height chart and seeing I was slightly higher than I was a month ago I pull the door closed and pull a bread basket to me opening a bag of fresh bagels, I pull one out the crumbs falling out onto the floor there I pull a bread board out and pull a knife out of a small collection of them kept in a small wooden housing unit the knife, the one with a hole in it which was nearly broken due to its age, I slide the knife through the bagel, inserting the two bagel slices into an old, slightly burnt looking toaster which, had been around for longer than I can remember, for around three minutes.
While I wait for the bagel slices to finish I walk over to the counter and pull a small drawer out from under the counter and take a blunt cream coloured spreading knife out, it was the only one in the house like it so I handled it carefully almost balancing it delicately in the palm of my hand I walked over to a glass fronted cupboard bordered with heavy dark coloured wood where a carefully lift a small chipped plate which had been bought as a set with other plates like it but the rest and fallen and broken into several shards over time, from underneath a stack of colourful favourite coffee mugs stained after years of use, I hear the sound of the toaster and I close the cupboard door letting it strike it’s frame, I stop for a second and lay the plate upon the table beside the toaster and then carefully I lift the bagel out of the heated filaments, still glowing red, dropping the two slices on the plate one landing upside-down making it clatter slightly, reaching I lift the lid off a pristine white butter dish carefully lying its lid on a table, I take the butter knife and run it along the top of the butter leaving a slight marks which you could only be seen in the early morning sunlight as it shone through a small glass skylight illuminating the room.
The author pays close attention to how early morning light is experienced, illuminating the small world which surrounds them. A Joycean stream of flowing thoughts and sensations is evoked here. I liked the detail of the “blunt cream coloured spreading knife,” the stained favourite coffee mugs, and the frosted glass. The focus is on a few small moments of time, and yet the passing years are referenced in the height chart in the kitchen.