last way to work before easter

        . Shower, warm wet, wash the head, the back, the feet.

Holler to the cat, the purring cat.

Fwd clothing in the wardrobe. Pack the computer, it is the last day at work today until the Easter holidays end. gather the keys and the watch, put on the coat and shoes. Leave the house, out into the bleak street, And and and as always, walk past . The shops, asleep and awake. The Turkish man in his Doner shop, looks out dolefully, black moustache, black hair.

Through the arch of the town gate the bus stop is visible, Dolores is in the shelter, the bog cotton man is smoking in the light of the street lamps. His white hair reminds of the tufts of the plant growing on the slopes of Keep pure Mountain.

Dolores has her leopard skin patterned handbag in land, a friendly hallo, a nod. Nobody knows anything about the other, but each must travel the same way at the same

Time

The bus is in, the strange man ahead a playing with his change again, counting coins and passing these on to the bus driver. It is cold today.

The pigtailed smoker is at the station smoking, he is dressed up in his shoots load shut, in some way immune to the cold of the pre-dawn morning.

Yorma's, under the disgusted glances of the turkish women, or Italian,or whatever population they come from. It is plain to see that this is not a job that they want to do, they would rather be at home.

In the cafe, all is as always, the daft silent television slowing people with insanely trimmed bodies demonstrating simple exercises in order to convince the onlooker that they will look just like this if they will only invest in this machinery.

Not a thing to be believed.

A tap on the shoulder, a good morning. and there is the local doctor on his way to a university meeting in Munich. He says

good morning, 

a friendly man. It is never quite clear with these professional people whether or not they will remember you outside of visiting hours in their practice. 

He seems to recognise people outside, his friendliness may be more than just profession

The train is delayed in the station, it has technical problems.

Those seven minutes allow the day to progress, presenting a whitened, frosted landscape of great beauty. A stream at mon onochromatic pictures passing by the trains windows, the rising globe of the sun a red ball in the background