I sleep until I wake naturally, sans chirruping alarm, then stay in bed a while longer, steaming mug of tea in hand, listening to the traffic and the birds. In pleasing solitude I navigate my day according to what catches my inclination and my eye. A cafe breakfast – a large, perfect flat white and thick, pillowy ricotta and honey on sourdough. I wander down half familiar sunlit streets, giving full attention to details that might usually pass me by, then turn back home. An early whisky counters the winter chill, and familiar music sets the pace as I chop vegetables for soup. As the sun sets I feel restored and nourished, ready for the week ahead.
Francesca Percy is a writer and editor, born in London, living in Sydney, always missing one or the other. She loves the details and the beauty in the everyday. You can visit her at Maybe Next Week as well as Twitter and Pinterest.