night despair, no hope of sleep. The mask it hisses and burbles, drift off and back again. Five in the morning the cat pours on the purrs, making a considerable noise.
It is the weekend. No early morning food today, cat. Cat wakes the wife thought. Cat is let out into the yard. Perhaps not what it wanted, who knows.
Up at eight thirty then, some deeper sleep was possible after all. Goody gumdrops.
The orchid, then find clothing, things to wear for this work free day. It is all OK now, Sleep must have been surreptitious, Hypnos sneaking in silently and spreading his cloak, leaving no memory and no sign of his presence. Make a small breakfast, the son is up and talking to his friends. The sun is up and visible somewhere too, the dull dark grey of the winter Saturday is not there now.
Live with that and be happy.
Last year was the warmest year on record, soon there will be hippopotami in the Isar, elephants along the Rhine. And the Alps may be bare of snow.
Need to go to the barber today, they may have a moment to spare. Harbour at the barber? That would be good, for the wool on the head looks like a silvery sheep in the winter's deep.
Sitting at the end of the living room table, the son's schoolbooks on the other end, looking at the ink drawing by Claudia Carmen, the geisha in varying moods. Sixteen Geishas in outline drawn on packing paper with a red ink face depicting various moods. The drawing has been around for twenty two years now
It is the weekend. No early morning food today, cat. Cat wakes the wife thought. Cat is let out into the yard. Perhaps not what it wanted, who knows.
Up at eight thirty then, some deeper sleep was possible after all. Goody gumdrops.
The orchid, then find clothing, things to wear for this work free day. It is all OK now, Sleep must have been surreptitious, Hypnos sneaking in silently and spreading his cloak, leaving no memory and no sign of his presence. Make a small breakfast, the son is up and talking to his friends. The sun is up and visible somewhere too, the dull dark grey of the winter Saturday is not there now.
Live with that and be happy.
Last year was the warmest year on record, soon there will be hippopotami in the Isar, elephants along the Rhine. And the Alps may be bare of snow.
Need to go to the barber today, they may have a moment to spare. Harbour at the barber? That would be good, for the wool on the head looks like a silvery sheep in the winter's deep.
Sitting at the end of the living room table, the son's schoolbooks on the other end, looking at the ink drawing by Claudia Carmen, the geisha in varying moods. Sixteen Geishas in outline drawn on packing paper with a red ink face depicting various moods. The drawing has been around for twenty two years now
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