It's that kind of morning.
A Tuesday, to be more precise.
When the reflection in the screen isn't enough.
The kind when an offering to the elements must be made.
Through fire, and Earth, and tunes on the wind.
The kind where you must search the littered floor for a twig worthy enough to stir the bowl.
Then, it all comes together harmoniously. 
Who wouldn't want to wake to the scents and sounds of  nature betwixt the city's mouth?
Unclaimed sustenance wedged between Capitalism's fangs
You're welcome, HOA.
This is some fair-quality shit you're getting absolutely free of charge.
Shut up, and enjoy the show.