Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
For everything, down to the scribbles.
A haiku for your morning about mine: My wife likes coffee with a splash of cow milk and, ideally, silence
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Your wife is all of us, I think
If that's true then who am I? Sorry to get so quickly existential but it's the question that sprung to mind.

You might be my dad who comes into the kitchen to make as much noise as possible and bang his teaspoon on the coffee cup loudly when stirring sugar while my mum is attempting to have a quiet morning, perhaps?