Five in the morning. All is bathed in yellow sunlight. The air is still fresh and cool. Many tourists tear themselves out of sleep, suffer sleep deprivation, just to greet the sun. It’ll be easy for them to banish their sleepiness with a splash of cold water. It’s still cool out and you march into the hot day as into the heat of battle!
Far too few offer up their utmost to meet the day and the hour. And even the most contented heart longs for the extraordinary. Here comes the July Sunday in glaring yellow light! July Sunday, be the bearer of what we long for!
Everywhere you look, unhappy humanity is escaping. Running, exhausted, we fall in line, back to the daily grind! Monday, how sour you would be were you not the source and reason for Sunday’s sweet anticipated pleasure! On Sundays, you see the weary plunked down in meadows and woods, washed clean of last week’s filth, prepared to tackle the coming week.