Tuesday, 25 February 2014

two thirty two morning notes

25.2.2014
If it were not for that electronic alarm, sleep woud reign two hours longer.
Wishful thinking. The bathroom, all the washing, shaving and so forth. The happy pill, and the water. It is all the same as many other times. The cat is silent today. There is time. Look at the clock in the kitchen, to check its time. It is still losing it. Twenty minutes in two days. The pendulum will need shortening.
Tonight.
On leaving the house, at the moment the doors are locked, Martins bells toll twice. Half past five. The bakers truck disgorging its contents into the Marais shop in the main street is accompanied by the loud shouts and umbrage of its driver. Maybe he thinks he is alone in the world, In the theater street a young cyclist stops, leaves her cycle, unlocks the door to one of the shops and wheels the cycle into the shop. Not remarkable.
At the bus stop there is no goodmoming lady. Maybe she is on holidays. A very small, very slim, and very blackly dressed young lady passes by, mincing along inter flat shoes. None of these awful high heeled monstrosities. The other small woman with the huge woollen hat with the white tassel on' it walks into town. The hat makes her look as if she is hydrocephalic. Maybe she has long hair tucked away underneath the woolly hat. The good morning lady was not there yesterday either, and today the man with the girlfriend passes alone. => The bus driver lets people out at the front of the his vehicle today. It is a different bus driver.

'The smoker with the hair-
smokes away-
Outside the square.
Good day!.
Yorma is crowded, and there is no Anastasia today. A well-groomed woman with 'Teamleiter" emboldened on her shirt, above where one would presume her heart to be is serving, with the strict darkhaired girl.
Butter brazen and coffee. No novelties.
The train is on time, and full. There are holiday makers going to the airport. with their baggage..

We have reached Freismg. 

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