The morning light is fluffy and golden. It comes through the window uninvited. It goes round the kitchen and dances on the walls. I never get tired of watching it spreading on the counter and on the splash back. It changes everything it touches and everything it leaves untouched, as well. It swirls on the walls, licking the cups and the little bowls. it gives them new shapes and volume. And if you look at it steadily, the light seems to stay forever in the same place. But if I turn around and make some tea, the light has already passed to another different place.
The light dances in my kitchen and plays with my mind.