4:42am.

Can of cinnamon rolls. Burned bacon.

Could it be? Him? At the door? Waiting for us?

A morning self-portrait. Mentally preparing myself for the day and whatever it will bring.

Every moment is a chance to turn it all around.

We take a giant pad of paper and divide it into squares. I ask questions. They answer. I write.

I feel like I am making him nervous. I don’t want him to be nervous - but I do want him to be focused. And timely.

I did not expect that to come out of her mouth.

Mostly worried about these cocktails flying off the table. These gusts of wind are putting everyone on edge.

Dreaming as a collective.