Life in the perehod.
Swinging in the sun at Mayakovskaya...
Go, sit upon the lofty hill, and turn your eyes around
Where waving woods and waters wild do hymn an autumn sound
The summer sun is faint on them - the summer flowers depart -
Sit sill - as all transform'd to stone except your musing heart.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
No alarm clock, no morning rush, lazy breakfasts in pyjamas in the sun,
long lunches then finding some shade and...