The clock makes its unecessary noises, must fix it, no need to get up at five in the morning, no need at all.
Outside there is a loud chorus of pigeons, cooing to each other, conversing in coos. A few noises of a few street users, over time with increasing frequency, the rumble of rubber tyres over cobblestones. Single voices, noisy scooters, and the occasional jet taking the route over Landshut to approach Munich airport.
The coolness of the morning enters the windows, before the day turns scorching hot with the sun pouring it’s blistering light out of a cloudless sky.
Everyone wanted a hot summer, now they have it.
And the tinny tussy hisses with a sound like a gas jet, it would be taken for a gas jet were it not for the fact that it changes it´s location with the rotation of the head.
Sitting alone in the big room, the front room. The noise of the excavators digging up the roads dominates the soundscape now, the rumble as cobbles are torn up, the steady hum of the diesel engine as it drives the hydraulics.
It is now seven forty nine, still the wife and the son are sleeping.
and, sorry for those searching for humor, today it will not be delivered.
Not here.
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