I've been waking up early for -let's see- a week. I mean really early; like 6AM as if I'm off to highschool. But considering my slacker personality, I just would have my coffee and some cigarettes.
But today... I noticed the dawn, like an aurora. Romantic, as many would think. No people, it's just as romantic as my ass.
An old, overweight man was on the street, walking while making strange arm movements from the 80's -the aerobics era. Don't forget the sauna pants. The odd thing is that glamourous scene made my remember my childhood's memoirs; the sunday 'walks'.
I, as a 10 year old, looking like a smurf, having hair like Liz Taylor's, wearing Aviator style sunglasses -but with a colorful frame and green glasses, walking with my mother -who's in her early thirties, weighing a bit above me, anorexic as always and had a trouble finding the proper shoes, and my father -who's nearly 40, with a weight which is double of the sum of me and mother, overweight as always, has a bouncing belly and wearing clothes older than my age. So far, it wasn't that strange, was it? Just remember your sunday walks...
The thing about walking on a coast with your family is walking slowly, looking at the view and enjoying the sun, right? I thought like that even if I was a little suspicious at the moment they made me wear running shoes for our first walk. Imagine it, visualize a man and a woman with a speed as if they're on a marathon and me running as if I can catch them. And do not laugh, cause it's traumatic.
Oh, the inheritance part. I am much like my mother -my bmi is back to 18, hurray! And nowadays I'm thinking on running on the coast every morning, without trying to catch anyone. But as this thought passes my mind, cigarette packs run in front of my eyes and they tell me, "You'll drop dead after 200 meters you walking ashtray, senior citizens will make fun of you and march over your dead body... Oh, and you don't even have the proper shoes."

Berry Zeinfeld, _{a cheap clone}