love affairs and giraffes

My life is composed of the daily tasks of things: the warmth of the milk for coffee early in the morning, when it's still unbearably dark outside, the book I can't stop reading, how tender it lies in my hands, yellowed pages with words that remain dangling in my mind, the ins and outs of everyday, of coming and going to classes, students who have dangerously become friends, their stories, their strangely distorted English, the battle of whether I should smoke another cigarette or not, fill my blood with yet another coffee or wait, the translating of intranquility, fears, joys, optimism, with a golden tinge of doubt. But I love it all. I love this rushed simplicity and extravagant freedom, a subtle sensation of floating with hope as my wings, revealing a new me, a younger I, but stronger with stronger calves and thinner arms that carry more than ever before - a heart - brighter and redder than ever.