unconsciousness then increasingly conscious of the surroundings, the state of the matters around about about the narrow horizon of bed and window, disconnected breathing apparatus, all there. A realisation of the surroundings, a feeling of increasing substance in all the surroundings, their moving away from a theoretical nebular condition to one of solid material. Being released from the dream world to the rigid constraints of daily life.
Quite different from the panic of having to deal with the self made imposition of a demanding alarm clock. Quitting sleep as a matter of choice and not for the sake of the daily struggle.
Enough, hear the son clinking around with the breakfast things. Plenty of sleep, hard journey yesterday. get up bathroom, night clothes remain for a while longer.
Look into the sons room. Computer games and projects, distant from school, his priorities are obviously different to the realities imposed upon him by a rigid school regimen.
The aluminium coffee pot with the drawing of a man with a hat and a moustache on its side. This individual is pointing straight up to the sky, and is wearing striped trousers, jacket and tie.
Mr. Bialetti himself.
Cold coffee and computers, still sleeping woman of the house.
The weekend is running for its destruction again.
It will be gone on monday, when monday comes
At the train time,
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