Wednesday, feels like the fourth week of the third year

29th July 2015

a tangle of devices by the bed, one making noise. Silence! Ciunas!

and so the day starts, get up, bathroom, shower, finally awake, enjoy the days highlights. Find the socks where they had been placed last night in preparation of this early rising.

The cat purrs loudly in the hope that it is to be fed, has no chance, however.

Leave the house to greet what is a grey, pleasantly cool, day. There is the mildest of drizzles, and a young woman passes wearing a raincoat.

The bells of saint Marlins darkly toll twice, it is the half hour. The Ursulines tinkle two seconds later, from the distance. Are they two seconds off, or is it the distance? No knowing:

Blacklegging'ed, black haired, black jacketed girl passes by at the bus stop. White, actually brightest white, cloth sports shoes and a black rucksack. Hair hair done in a ponytail, visible as she passes by, swinging from side to side as ponytails do.

On the go he reaches for her rucksack, and as she passes by the town gate she removes her cigarettes and stops there. Her daily smoke, her daily habitual.

The bus driver is friendly, his change machine has stuck. A damaged change machine. There is a young woman on board the bus, with long blond hair, and long bare legs sitting there with her large suitcase. On her way to a hot country most probably. In her shorts and flat shoes, preening her hair with her hands. She is happy to be underway. At the station, she is clumsy with her wheeled suit case, and we all walk through the pig-tailed smokers yellow-bordered demesne, and wish him a good morning. The cafe is well filled today, the girl with the white glasses has stopped pointing at people today. She is working away, concentrating upon her job in the service of those who are always in a hurry. She does not emanate friendliness, but she is accurate and, considering the short time that he has worked in the cafe, really fast.

Hedgehog gives a morning greeting, sounds like "MONG". All the doors are locked again, this is awkward.

And when it is time to go, at six, the way out of the cafe is blocked with people dressing their hot morning drinks in sugar and milk, juices and syrups.

On the platform, the mosaic maker gives a grin on her way to work.