29th of January 2016
Bad night, good wine the evening before, one thing leads to another. And things that are not crimes are punished any way.
The seaside melody across the room, get up, turn it off. The cat is excited, it is demanding attention today, nocturnal feline is.
.
go to The loo, or the bathroom, say hello to the orchid on the windowsill.
Shower, leave the showing to the electric shaver at work, Clothes, white shirt black trousers, socks and the walking boots. against the salt the city spreads on its pavements in winter. Empty is the alley until the main street is reached, where the Friday market is being set up. There is the man in his transparent plastic sheeting stall again, cutting sausages apart. Another way to start the day. at the bus stop look back and see Dolores approaching out of the distance, a short profile, a cut - out against the town gate, the gate being lit by the street lighting, the bricks in a glow of sodium lamplight the Bus, in the glare of fluorescent lighting, see that Dolores is wearing a dark imitation-fur coat over her hoodie, the hood of which is covering her head. She has her leopard print handbag with her, as always. As always, she leaves the bus one stop ahead of the station, a stop called Hopmanggweg.
The railway station's square is bleak, deserted. It is glistening in the damp air. The automatic sliding doors move aside upon entry, and the service girl at the cafe asks, enquires. A large coffee and nothing else. And a lid from the counter. The lids are in a stock, pressed to each other, and are impossible to detach from each other. Take one from a different stack, it works. The television is showing mixed doubles from Melbourne , prancing couples trying to outdo each other. Fast reflexes, , plenty of tension. Hexed Dibbles. Ball boys running across the courts with an expression conveying an impression of the greatest haste. Freeing the court up from spent tennis balls. The courts are coloured blue, a colour that is in some way unreal. Waiting room blues.
The daily routine at the tall small round table. Leave the room for the tracks, yes, make tracks for the platform. The Rosenheim Diesel us in...
stand at the other platform as the two trains couple, to take deform of one big train which will take it's passengers all the way to Munich, if they want.
<Here is the usual competitive pushing and shoving at the carriage door. At least half the seats inside are free, but pushing is a habit. An elbow-loving society. And then a small group of office people start shouting at each other, laughing loudly at their own jokes, making stupid impersonations, indulging in excessive formalities. A pain.
Bad night, good wine the evening before, one thing leads to another. And things that are not crimes are punished any way.
The seaside melody across the room, get up, turn it off. The cat is excited, it is demanding attention today, nocturnal feline is.
.
go to The loo, or the bathroom, say hello to the orchid on the windowsill.
Shower, leave the showing to the electric shaver at work, Clothes, white shirt black trousers, socks and the walking boots. against the salt the city spreads on its pavements in winter. Empty is the alley until the main street is reached, where the Friday market is being set up. There is the man in his transparent plastic sheeting stall again, cutting sausages apart. Another way to start the day. at the bus stop look back and see Dolores approaching out of the distance, a short profile, a cut - out against the town gate, the gate being lit by the street lighting, the bricks in a glow of sodium lamplight the Bus, in the glare of fluorescent lighting, see that Dolores is wearing a dark imitation-fur coat over her hoodie, the hood of which is covering her head. She has her leopard print handbag with her, as always. As always, she leaves the bus one stop ahead of the station, a stop called Hopmanggweg.
The railway station's square is bleak, deserted. It is glistening in the damp air. The automatic sliding doors move aside upon entry, and the service girl at the cafe asks, enquires. A large coffee and nothing else. And a lid from the counter. The lids are in a stock, pressed to each other, and are impossible to detach from each other. Take one from a different stack, it works. The television is showing mixed doubles from Melbourne , prancing couples trying to outdo each other. Fast reflexes, , plenty of tension. Hexed Dibbles. Ball boys running across the courts with an expression conveying an impression of the greatest haste. Freeing the court up from spent tennis balls. The courts are coloured blue, a colour that is in some way unreal. Waiting room blues.
The daily routine at the tall small round table. Leave the room for the tracks, yes, make tracks for the platform. The Rosenheim Diesel us in...
stand at the other platform as the two trains couple, to take deform of one big train which will take it's passengers all the way to Munich, if they want.
<Here is the usual competitive pushing and shoving at the carriage door. At least half the seats inside are free, but pushing is a habit. An elbow-loving society. And then a small group of office people start shouting at each other, laughing loudly at their own jokes, making stupid impersonations, indulging in excessive formalities. A pain.
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