The first thing I think about in the morning is how I can hunt down the progeny of the bastard who invented alarm clocks. Then I listen to the birds. You have no idea, dear Reader, how birdsong fills me with joy. But today something strange happened. I was woken by the sound of a song; the chorus of a song to be more precise. It took me a few seconds to understand that the song was not coming from the neighbours house but from my own head. And the song insisted. Get up and write me down. So I did. I now feel an obligation to let the song grow. I think the universe has given me a mission.