Sundays seem always to be wrapped in grace. Sunday mornings have softer edges and sweeter sounds. The elegance of Sunday comes from ease, as if the light clouds have steeped the air and made it more refined. Sunday morning's sounds are more delicate; church bells languidly ringing, magazine pages listlessly rustling, spoons tinkling against the side of coffee cups. This day will be more serene than the rest....the morning spent out on a terrace, watching the pollen gradually fall to the grass, the lemon trumpet vine in cadence with the wind.
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