a piece of a day

And when at last the weekend comes, he would find himself in his room, bathing in the rays of sunlight penetrating the windows of the small room, at peace with the classical pieces he’s trying to find attachment to, sorting out the life of him by slowing down the pace of the day, checking only now and then the calendar for he will not suffer anything to shatter the much needed calm. Hours left before the usual storm will take him into its hold. A maelstrom of intentions.