A cold morning

I woke up. Drink coffee I arranged myself, Opened the door. I was hit by the cold air of the morning. I came back and I caught my old and dirty jacket jeans. It is one in such a way stonewashed one and dirty, but exactly thus still she is my preferred one. In the street the wind scrapes my face. It does not have subtility is strong and cold. I feel that my face was attacked. I have that to leave my beard to grow again. The world not yet wake up totally. But some workers and students risk to leave their houses. To the few the sun going up and giving colors to the mounts that are to the south from here. First the peaks are with a brown color. Alive and strong. Later golden the morning one it assumes its place and finally the green clearly of the vegetation is established that recovers them. Calm way for the streets, breathing deep. Absorbing cold air. Feeling the temperature and the wind in my body. Now the land, houses, cars, vegetation, people, everything. Everything is golden. The sky can be blue, but all more is golden. The golden one is the true color of the autumn. This light of the morning is so beautiful that it becomes difficult to try to describe it. But this is the south of the country. And I am not speaking from a paradisiacal beach or a beautiful hidding place of plateaus. I am only in a quarter of the city where I live. Palhoça, Santa Catarina, Brazil.
Mornings as these make the life to be valid the price.
Palhoça, 27 of April of 2007.
Obs: this photo is of the street where I catch morning hitchhiking early to go to work.