The street is deserted, no people, just the expanding road works. The town is cold and sleeping,
At the bus stop the three people, as usual. The same three people. Cars stream past, Trucks and cars. Under way in the early morning. This is a trunk road, it runs right through the middle of the town. There is a constant stream of traffic both directions.
29 abril
suddenly sounding, the alarm destroys a deep sleep. Wait untill the bathroom is free, then take a shower. The warm water wakens, the throat is sore, the tinnitus whispers in the distance..Brush the teeth and return to the bedroom.
Put on the day clothes, pet the purring Miriam cat.
Check all at the things in the bag, put on the glasses, put the wallet in the right hand pocket. Take the pill that the doctor had ordered, change the house for the street, the streets deserted untill then at the main street the bustle of the Friday market being set up.
At the bus stop, there is Dolores, huddled in the seat over there in the bus stop shelter.
The weather is cold. It is foggy today, the hotel on the other side of the river is showing its lights dimly through a cloak of water vapour There is a lone duck sitting on the wall, and there are more of them running about between the trees on some kind of duck business.
Hear loud voices in the bus shelter, the raucous sound of a drunken man * The boy cotton man is there too, upon this drunk`s request he parts with a cigarette. Apeasement.
The weatherbeaten inebriate man attempts to start a conversation about the gods. Then he Talks about the moon. It is a half moon now.
Today there is a tall African woman working in Yorma's cafe. She is friendly, she has her hair in a multitude of tiny black plaits. she is chatting to her colleagues. Service is done by the shaven-headed man, the woman is much to busy talking and doing other things. she is pretty and friendly, but does not appreciate that her customers are in a hurry, have trains to catch, and cannot dawdle..
The coffee is finished on the platform, the cup disposed of in the train. That is all, just that the train was held up in Moosburg. The last day of the week does not begin well, and it has become hard to ray attention to the kind of detail that these notes require. By' he time before we reach Freising, the fog has thickened, and has left a coating of hoary frost on the fields. A white deposit of ice cristals, desaturating the pale spring green of the vegetation.
But before Freising is reached the train stops and waits in a tiny place called Lavgemtaeh, no Langenbach, and waits in the clearing fog for the railway lines ahead to be cleared of a broken down cargo train.
Friday will start with a major delay.
At the bus stop the three people, as usual. The same three people. Cars stream past, Trucks and cars. Under way in the early morning. This is a trunk road, it runs right through the middle of the town. There is a constant stream of traffic both directions.
29 abril
suddenly sounding, the alarm destroys a deep sleep. Wait untill the bathroom is free, then take a shower. The warm water wakens, the throat is sore, the tinnitus whispers in the distance..Brush the teeth and return to the bedroom.
Put on the day clothes, pet the purring Miriam cat.
Check all at the things in the bag, put on the glasses, put the wallet in the right hand pocket. Take the pill that the doctor had ordered, change the house for the street, the streets deserted untill then at the main street the bustle of the Friday market being set up.
At the bus stop, there is Dolores, huddled in the seat over there in the bus stop shelter.
The weather is cold. It is foggy today, the hotel on the other side of the river is showing its lights dimly through a cloak of water vapour There is a lone duck sitting on the wall, and there are more of them running about between the trees on some kind of duck business.
Hear loud voices in the bus shelter, the raucous sound of a drunken man * The boy cotton man is there too, upon this drunk`s request he parts with a cigarette. Apeasement.
The weatherbeaten inebriate man attempts to start a conversation about the gods. Then he Talks about the moon. It is a half moon now.
Today there is a tall African woman working in Yorma's cafe. She is friendly, she has her hair in a multitude of tiny black plaits. she is chatting to her colleagues. Service is done by the shaven-headed man, the woman is much to busy talking and doing other things. she is pretty and friendly, but does not appreciate that her customers are in a hurry, have trains to catch, and cannot dawdle..
The coffee is finished on the platform, the cup disposed of in the train. That is all, just that the train was held up in Moosburg. The last day of the week does not begin well, and it has become hard to ray attention to the kind of detail that these notes require. By' he time before we reach Freising, the fog has thickened, and has left a coating of hoary frost on the fields. A white deposit of ice cristals, desaturating the pale spring green of the vegetation.
But before Freising is reached the train stops and waits in a tiny place called Lavgemtaeh, no Langenbach, and waits in the clearing fog for the railway lines ahead to be cleared of a broken down cargo train.
Friday will start with a major delay.
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