sunday dawns.

imagine a cold sunday morning.with dew on your head.and you sniffle.the air feels like ice.your pullover struggles to keep you warm.your feet leaves soft footprints on the sand.the beach is empty on cold sundays.the sun, not yet entirely up, does not smile.you see waves push and pull in the comforting darkness of dawn.waves like history.alarming in their repetetiveness.yet disalarming in their repetetiveness.your ears numb themselves to the splash of these waves.as you walk home, heart heavy, imagine yourself sinking into the sand...