1.12.14
Dreamy dozes, beeping clock., Three beeps, turn it off, stretch. Feet out of bed, feet on floor, push and vertical. Go to the bathroom wash. Sore throat, an earache, headwhistle. All reasons not to get up today, but for habit and duty. Blackish brown cords a black shirt, black shoes. check the clock, turn the light out..
Five thirty two, leave the house, past a brown Opel, down the lane. In the middle of the tweet, in front of the church, there is a shiny christmas decoration on the ground. A silvery reflective ball on the cobbles, the cobbles of dark basalt.
Dolores and a blackbird at the bus stop, men in orange working clothes working in the brightly lit doorway of the storeroom adjacent to the public public lavatory's entrance. They are fifty yards away, but so dearly visible because of the dark surroundings, the bright light and those reflective suits.
Dolores leaves the bus at the Hofangerweg, The same dragging gait as she always has.. Dolourful, not colourful. Anastasio nervous, with her piping voice, serving fast, everyone has their coffee or whatever in no time 'flat. Mousitachiv and Hedgehog chatting and laughing, the black haired, black coated, black hand bagged flatheel booted girl joins them, drags over a stool first,
- and after a few records starts to read the paper. later she is to be seen running to the ticket machines, and joining a queue in front of one of them. She is late, the train is in early.
It is Monday, the first of December, the train is full. After Moosbuvy, it is packed. A woman opposite has patterns painted on to her fingernails in a deep red color. On first view it looks as if she has hit her fingers with a hammer. That effect was unlikely to have been unintentional.
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