My ideal morning would be one where the alarm clock goes off and I turn it off, without remorse, knowing that I can sleep for another hour if I want to, that I don't have to jump out of bed like a spring, my brain still asleep, groping for the light switch, while my bare feet bump into the corner of the bed or the closet.

My perfect morning would be to wake up slowly, little by little, without rushing. Going to the kitchen and making myself breakfast, savoring it, without time being an enemy I have to battle every moment. Feeling the silence (I love and appreciate that there are no noises in the mornings) while I savor every bite with delight, slowly, as if all my plans were adapting to me and not me to them.

I like to have two or three cups of coffee in the morning, because I wake up gradually. Still in my pajamas and already having had breakfast, I like to go back to my room or the terrace to have my last cup of coffee while I turn on my cell phone and catch up on news from my country and my family. Then I reply and write messages; I rarely call or send audio messages.

I would love to take a shower, with enough water to wash my hair, exfoliate my body, and listen to music while I do it. I wouldn't have to bathe with a container of water and work magic. I would start the day off great if I felt clean, vibrant, and full of energy after a good half-hour bath.

On my ideal morning, I wouldn't leave the house. I would stay in bed reading and taking notes. Maybe I would eat fruit or sweets mid-morning: I would allow myself to eat whatever I wanted, from chocolate chip cookies to heavily salted potato chips. I wouldn't need to put on makeup or wear high-heeled sandals; I would simply dress in loose, comfortable, simple cotton clothes.

On an ideal day, if I had to go out, I would definitely go for a walk on the beach. Not to swim or spend the day there, just to walk along the seashore and sit under a palm tree while the hours slip away like water through my fingers. All I would need is a book, or nothing at all. I would simply breathe in the fresh morning air, maybe order a cold beer to relieve the heat of the early hours, and then, full of energy, I would return home.

You could say that my weekends have perfect mornings, when the pace is less pressing and my breathing is slower. There are no plans, no appointments, nothing that forces me to leave my house. For me, a perfect day would be a day spent doing nothing, because I am increasingly realizing that when I have a thousand things to do, that is when I live the least.