The balcony faces east, which means the mountain gets the first light and the apartment gets it about twenty minutes later, once it clears the ridge.
I have had this view for a while now, long enough that I stopped photographing it and started just standing there with coffee, which is probably the real sign that a place has become home.
What stayed, what did not
The traffic sounds the same. The birds at six a.m. are the same birds, or at least I choose to believe that. What changed is what I notice from up here: which buildings are new, which restaurant closed, which of my own routines survived the last twelve months and which quietly did not.
A balcony is a strange kind of mirror. It does not show you your face. It shows you what you have gotten used to.
Some mornings I still cannot believe this is the view I get to have coffee in front of. Other mornings it is just Tuesday, and that might be the better sign.
