Eyes focus in the dark where there is so little to focus on, the ceiling, the window. The window has light from the window outside, reflects the dim ruddy colour of the sky in its turn reflecting the glow of the lamps from the town. Street lights.
And the utter silence of the day at ten to five.
And so to the bathroom, no urgent need really, but as well now as later, Look at the time on the Victorinox watch, and see that it is ten to five. And so brush the strange taste of the night from the teeth. The cat rubs its back on bare legs, and purrs for attention, or out of satisfaction, or maybe in anticipation.
Close the glass hall door in the dark, and squeeze the cat between the door and its frame. Cat umbrage, an angry howl, and then the world is in order again, back to a steady purr.
And take the computer from the bedroom, and go along the hallway with it's two loose tiles and into the soundless sitting room.
Sit down to write "Eyes focus in" and so forth, and the cat, enraged at being ignored, knocks a cactus off the window ledge, the clay pot breaking on the wooden floor.
So get up to return the now broken pot and the prickly, self defensive cactus to the window sill, and observe that the cat has now become interested in the cactus. Perhaps it has understood that it will get the most reaction from its owner if it knocks the cactus down, and is considering a re-enactment.
But after a while she loses interest and commences playing with glass marbles, throwing them into inaccessible corners only to retrieve them, and to kick them about the floor again.
This is a private time early in the morning, silence but for ticking clocks and the playing cat.
There will be no work today, a fit of coughs from deep down in the lungs, an illicit tickle on the diaphragm makes sure of that.
and another coughing fit, ending in the bathroom.
This is not good.
The cat is at the cactus again.
And the utter silence of the day at ten to five.
And so to the bathroom, no urgent need really, but as well now as later, Look at the time on the Victorinox watch, and see that it is ten to five. And so brush the strange taste of the night from the teeth. The cat rubs its back on bare legs, and purrs for attention, or out of satisfaction, or maybe in anticipation.
Close the glass hall door in the dark, and squeeze the cat between the door and its frame. Cat umbrage, an angry howl, and then the world is in order again, back to a steady purr.
And take the computer from the bedroom, and go along the hallway with it's two loose tiles and into the soundless sitting room.
Sit down to write "Eyes focus in" and so forth, and the cat, enraged at being ignored, knocks a cactus off the window ledge, the clay pot breaking on the wooden floor.
So get up to return the now broken pot and the prickly, self defensive cactus to the window sill, and observe that the cat has now become interested in the cactus. Perhaps it has understood that it will get the most reaction from its owner if it knocks the cactus down, and is considering a re-enactment.
But after a while she loses interest and commences playing with glass marbles, throwing them into inaccessible corners only to retrieve them, and to kick them about the floor again.
This is a private time early in the morning, silence but for ticking clocks and the playing cat.
There will be no work today, a fit of coughs from deep down in the lungs, an illicit tickle on the diaphragm makes sure of that.
and another coughing fit, ending in the bathroom.
This is not good.
The cat is at the cactus again.
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