Sunday, 3 April 2016

late on a Sunday morning

aseptic awakening in the clean hotel room, strangely styled furniture made of coated mdf-typ pressed wood. Fake period forms, they are good for photographs and age badly.
That saturday wedding yesterday, an insane all day event, and ending in the maudlin evening with sentimental alcohol induced vows of eternal friendship. All the great dancers, all the tired children, the happy bride and the noisy noisy band. Volume bolstering out any lack of quality.
The hotel room has a flimsy shower, well used, clean, repack the bags.
The young son is exhausted in his bed, asleep, deep. He was talking and chatting, young girls tried to make him dance, he was shy, unwilling. And it was one in the morning before we were back home.
Shower and repack the backs, make a cup of instant coffee from the utensils provided by the hotel.
The son will not waken early today.

Open the windows, let some fresh air into the stuffy sealed-off room, feel the cool air pour in as the damp-sated warm air of the night escapes.


And hear the other guests, all rising late on a Sunday morning

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