Today is a good day; thanks to a beautiful woman.

The golden color on the face of the coffee is slowly dissolving and disseminating away at the inside walls of the cup as if succumbing to the power of the black circle dominating the surface.

A red painted tea-less pot is celebrating its vivid colors with 3 complimenting redder roses as if intertwined in a love able harmonial relation.

Lifting the ear of the cup; I feel the warmth of the coffee smoothy transitioning from the porcelain onto my fingers as if sending a message to my senses to prepare for happy indulgence.

The cup closes in to my chest; I am about to enjoy a moment of caffeine drift when a beautiful woman shows up from a close far and designs the scene with a baby strolling in my direction; a leaf falls right after she passes a tree, a green light turns red on the traffic signal, steam from the coffee stops at my nostrils all to allow for an undistracted view of a walk of a woman.

She’s wearing a dress. It is black, I think ‘did she decide to put that color on this morning intentionally to distract my moment of having a nice warm sip of coffee?’

At the edge of the side walk, a sound of a red bus slowly pulling towards its stop doesn’t bother me; the coffee finally makes its way to my caffeine depleted apetitie and nourishes my morning with a sense of being.

On its way down back to its long beautiful animated journey, the cup restingly sits onto the table with its color as black as a sky about to settle into its nightly mood.

A man in white approaches; he lays down a plate of the same color slightly shaded, on a white equally sided table; the act brings a lot of brightness to my day.

‘Your porridge sir; hope you enjoy it’ he smilingly addresses.

I pause and consume as much of the beautiful moments and enjoy the very blessings around me as possible.

Vividly green mint leaves weaving in between long shaped banana slices sat on a bed of wheat pianoningly sink towards the depth as if soaking into a hot bathtub of sweetness.

A picture of my face shiningly reflects onto the hand of the silver spoon; it adds life to the indulging action of silver dipping into the steaming porridge and scooping the utterly cooked seeds from the bottom; they making their journey to my awaiting appetite.

Hands of an imaginary clock shaped porridge bowl point at ‘it’s enough o’clock’, I lay the silverware onto 4:20 to alert the waiter of my finishing; reaching for the coffee which has sadly lost its warmth after being ignored for a while as if punishing me by getting intentionally cold, I drink a lifeless soulless sip.

A man then deviates my focus and looks at me in surprise, as I look closely, his eyes travel towards my hair and starts combing it; doing this; he knows it’s just out of habit; it wouldn’t follow his shaping efforts; suddenly we both realize that its me who is styling my hair, the other better looking man is a reflection on the shop window. He smirks and so I smile.

The time is approaching midday and the sun is about to hit its 90 degree angle onto earth.

I respectfully notch up a calling to the waiter ‘Can I have the bill please?’ a smile was all it took to send his prompt agreement.

Grabbing up a 21st century smart technology device with an apple carved on its back, I tap onto google maps; a mobile application made of sets of zeroes and ones; suddenly an effect maximizes into the phone’s whole screen as if about to dominate its front line at a war zone among 50 other apps.

Thirty minutes is what this smart app mathematically concludes as my trip journey time to my next destination.

A machine arrives carried in the hands of the waiter when I reach for my wallet and hand him another type of a smart technology made of plastic and magnetic chip with my mum’s picture printed on it;

‘It’s 6.23 sir’ he says

I happily nod back in agreement and so a mutual respect fills the air up.

I head towards the bus stop and wait; a smart idea pops up in my head and I press another app by the name of Medium; I read a post and await transport.

‘Hammersmith station’; draws a round sign on to my line of sight; a red line then compliments through the circle and reads ‘underground’.

My brain recollects its understandings that this is the place I should head to; ‘Look right; Look left’ are painted onto the street crossings; I pause and move my head either side to allow for a 90 degree view in both directions and so my brain gives a green light to go ahead as if an air bubbled thought blinks ahead of me saying ‘it’s safe to cross’

‘1984 musical last chance;’ ‘Mr Perfect screening now;’ ‘Travel yourself to cape;’ my head is swinging side to side and uncontrollably sucking in the adverts and posters hanging on the underground walls as if every picture is trying to get my attention in a swarmed arts museum; ‘Piccadilly line this way;’ I finally run away from the grappling marketing messages and find my way to the journey home.

A red and blue train approaches, I take two equal steps back of the yellow line when a gust of wind adds an unequal third. ‘Mind the gap’ annoyingly and loudly echoes around the tube wall; I slightly take a bit wider than a step up and enter the carriage. A yellow post fixed between an empty seat and another not, flags a free space up. I zigzag my feet through high end red Jimmy Choo like pumps, blue sockless toms loafers, strange looking 5 finger vibram sandals and a ‘Hamburg’ in gold before the 1st stripe on a pair of brown adidas sneakers is printed.

I get ‘Give and take‘ out and with the inside tips of my fingers, I feel the gap in the pages where the marker happily lies between the words and letters of the beauty of helping others.

I softly squeeze the papers down in to an open form.

The train stops at the next station and so does my reading; my vision starts gazing at the passengers entering not so much on the ones exiting. At the third stop my brain-eye exercise hibernates as one woman walks in and grabs hold of the yellow post an inch away from my seating.

‘The next station is King’s cross St. Pancras’ a female voice joyfully announces; the person in the seat next to me responds to the female calling, gets off and makes his way to the closed doors; anticipating his next stop; I thoughtfully send him a silent ‘thank you’ when she lets go off the post.

After the struggle of looking at the pages in the book and unable to comprehend a word; I tame the conflict of being cool about her presence and stare at her blouse for some time; I quickly take a sneak peak at her face before she turns around and takes her seat.

The tight fit jeans material squeeze and travel half an inch upwards; the line sawn acting as a bridge between the left and right back cheeks smoothly stretches allowing for a comfortable act of sitting.

The seat cushion slowly sinks in admiration of her buttocks as if marrying in matrimony.

A jasmine smell disturbs my senses and adds a complimenting feeling of tranquility.

A smile draws on my face; and so her presence adds an extra joyful beat to my heart.

Today is a good day; thanks to a beautiful woman.

My name is Sherif and I am a dayenjoyer.

Published by dayenjoyer

video journalist

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