Saturday, 22 August 2015

SA silent blue sky.

blue sky with white clouds like pluckings from a wad of cotton, yellow lighting in the room from the reflection of the sun in the yellow colored house opposite.
Sit at the table, push aside yesterdays salad bowl. The little tricolor cat arrives purring steadily, wanting attention and demands feeding. Cats, small familiars. Jumps onto the table and rubs her head on the writers arm. Jumps to the window and admires the view. Constant content purr.

It is eight in the morning, the bells say so. And it is a silent day, up until now.
Give the cat some cat food, from a tin in the refrigerator. It picks at it carefully, piece by piece, little bits at a time, Concentrating on its catfood, it stops purring.

Grind the coffee, and fill the Italian espresso maker, moka expres, or whatever they like to call it.
and return to the table, listen to the hiss of the gas and the hiss in the head. Gas to the left, tinnitus on the right.
They are both much the same.
The coffee makes a burbling noise as it ascends the pipe in the machine.

The madness of two years ago, has left and now there is just a quite misery saying that things could easily be so much worse.

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