My walk to Puerto Madero was chilled and grey.
The tallest of the buildings were cloaked in an opaque haze that hovered above the neighborhood.
Smoke streamed from a chimney and rose to meet it with little effort on its part,
adding to the slowly shifting grey that overlapped and sprawled over lighter pink clouds
creating a bruised look on the sky.
A bruised sky...
As the sun rose it began to break through the haze
it reflected off of the buildings comprised of hundreds of reflecting mirrors,
a sliver of sun and a sliver of hope for a nice day
I hustled along regretting my choice of a thin sweater and grateful for my scarf.

A sleepless night full of Manzitas cryitas kept me yawning through class
as my most boring student went on about his weekend in his low tone that makes me want to close my eyes and drift away over the city.
When I emerged from class earlier than expected the port had transformed into radiating sunshine.
The bruise had dispersed and with it I walked briskly home to find Josh flat on his back in bed with Monzi rising and falling on his stomach with his breathing.
It was...really adorable