A high-pitched ping noise, starting below the pitch of the constantly present tinnitus in the right ear, the pitch going higher, passing the tinnitus, leaving it behind, then going high into inaudible levels, fading away.
What was this! Fright in the morning. It was not in the head, it had nothing to do with the tinnitus, no aneurismatic event, no. Imagination?
Lie in bed and feel the day growing, no way is the day to be raced today, no fast shower, no rushing for clothing in the dark, no overexcited young cat. Peace of sorts.
Later today a haircut. The young girl Rosa hardly dared suggest that she cut the grey hair, shyly suggesting "Posso?"-Of course you can! Why not? She has just finished her training. So she has now made up a professional date of her own on her own. A visible thrill - Now let us see how she does. Later. Nine thirty
Ping.
It is the mobile telephone. A short message system message. From the phone company, informing of details of service, payment for same. Unimportant, but a strange noise. This must have been set by accident, by your's truly, without realization of the confusion that this would cause.
All are asleep, it is early. No, the cat is awake, outside the window. Let her in, she purrs her greeting.
Get up, clean the coffee machine, make an early morning coffee.
Sit at the table with the grey machine, look at the news. Death and destruction everywhere, nothing positive, who wants to here good news?
The son wakes up, he is at his machine again, soon he is talking to his friends, talking over the machine. The machines are central to childrens lives now, here, unthinkable in the past, normality today.
The coffee is good, black and bitter.
There is a new poem by Polly to be seen on the machine. Now it will be some days work to even begin to understand it. English, German, Google, and a babble of beginners Portuguese.
That is good news, not all news is bad, the darkness on the horizon may just be the fleeing night.
What was this! Fright in the morning. It was not in the head, it had nothing to do with the tinnitus, no aneurismatic event, no. Imagination?
Lie in bed and feel the day growing, no way is the day to be raced today, no fast shower, no rushing for clothing in the dark, no overexcited young cat. Peace of sorts.
Later today a haircut. The young girl Rosa hardly dared suggest that she cut the grey hair, shyly suggesting "Posso?"-Of course you can! Why not? She has just finished her training. So she has now made up a professional date of her own on her own. A visible thrill - Now let us see how she does. Later. Nine thirty
Ping.
It is the mobile telephone. A short message system message. From the phone company, informing of details of service, payment for same. Unimportant, but a strange noise. This must have been set by accident, by your's truly, without realization of the confusion that this would cause.
All are asleep, it is early. No, the cat is awake, outside the window. Let her in, she purrs her greeting.
Get up, clean the coffee machine, make an early morning coffee.
Sit at the table with the grey machine, look at the news. Death and destruction everywhere, nothing positive, who wants to here good news?
The son wakes up, he is at his machine again, soon he is talking to his friends, talking over the machine. The machines are central to childrens lives now, here, unthinkable in the past, normality today.
The coffee is good, black and bitter.
There is a new poem by Polly to be seen on the machine. Now it will be some days work to even begin to understand it. English, German, Google, and a babble of beginners Portuguese.
That is good news, not all news is bad, the darkness on the horizon may just be the fleeing night.
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