Blinding sunlight announces itself through her towering, foggy windows. She wakes in a plush white bed and nuzzles her boy in a half dream state. Her weary feet tip toe across the icy concrete floors discreetly maneuvering through leaning towers out dated magazines and precariously organized clusters of clothing. The kitchen is rustic, basic and only utilized to create inviting aromas from the centre of the vast and modestly furnished room. A single Moroccan rug sits beside the counter and brightly coloured Chinese silk cushions replace the space a sofa would belong. Within minutes the bare, but cozy studio is enveloped with a familiar scent of fresh coffee and slightly burnt toast. She wraps a vintage silk kimono bearing delicately painted red roses around her chilled sun kissed skin in between yawns and wishes to return to a deep slumber. He opens one eye lazily and smirks as she tucks back into the dangerously addictive bed. They share a single mug of steaming black coffee while dipping crumbling pieces of toast into the bitter remnants. The day starts far past noon, when she dresses in her sheer wispy floral dress. She untwists her hair from the messily clipped bun atop her head to reveal a cascade of golden waves. A cashmere cardigan with sleeves several inches too long is stolen from the boy’s neat drawers before she returns to her haphazardly organized mess and locates a perfectly worn in leather jacket. She slips on her most coveted butterscotch nude ankle boots before stumbling out the door ten minutes late.
