i remember Sunday mornings and the sunshine coming through the drawn curtains. The sound of horseshoes on the paved road outside of the apartment building. Coffee and a cigarette in the sunshine of the balcony, waving to people passing by or other's outside on their own balconies. I remember the sound of the television, not in English, but still comforting in it's own right. I remember waffles and eggs and the low hum of the dishwasher. Cleaning empty wine glasses from the evening before. Washing the bedding, and opening the windows to let the fresh air in. It smelled like the country. The sour undertone of manure overshadowed by the freshness of crisp, sweet vegetation. I remember trumpeter swans. I remember micro suede couch fabric against my bare skin and the breeze caressing my naked limbs. Acres and acres of flowers, and a simple depository box, to leave a donation. I remember so much so vibrantly. I close my eyes and I could be there once again. And while I am sorry that things did not go as planned, somewhere, along the line, they did. And it was grand for a time.