Some days feel like they drift rather than unfold, as though time itself has decided to take the scenic route. This morning began that way—no

Some days feel like they exist purely for the joy of thinking about nothing in particular. Thoughts float in, drift around, bump into each other,

There are weekends that feel structured, planned, organised to the minute—and then there are the quietly unplanned ones, where time drifts like a lazy cloud

Not every day needs a grand purpose. Some slip in softly, offering nothing more than time and the freedom to fill it—or ignore it—however you

Somewhere between the second cup of tea and the moment the toaster made a noise no toaster has ever made before, a single custard cream

There is a moment in every day when the brain simply refuses to follow the original plan. Maybe you sat down to write a to-do