Sunday mornings are idyllic here. Traffic on the street is just a trickle. Few traverse the sidewalks; no one is awake (except for me, it seems). The sunrise is glorious! I feel grateful for the day it brings. The nearly thirty water towers I can see from here are full, I imagine, waiting for the day, for everyone to wake, for faucets to run fresh water into empty teapots, caraffes. Sleepiness will fade. I make Americanos, one for me (and a second for my sleeping beauty in the other room). I settle in. What is Sunday morning without coffee and some quiet and the paper?