seaside melody from the telephone on the old writing table, get up, fingers pass over it from left to right.
Silence.
Bathroom, shower and shave. The head is heavy with the cold, despite the warmth of the morning. The showere is almost fully blocked with lime now, it really will need to be cleared.
Turn the lights on in the bedroom, there is the cat Miriam on the bed, yawning to herself. Find the clothing where it had been left last night, Dress for the day, and collect all the items needed for this day. The cat wants to leave the house too, but it is not allowed to.
the misery of it, the keys are not to be found. Open the writing desk again, search, glasses on.
Take a pill.
The keys are in the bag after all, so leave the house.
It is really warm outside today. Move on past all the building site machinery all arrayed in front of the bank at the church. They will start work this week, tearing up the street for the new urban heating system.
The bus shelter with Dolores sitting in it, the man with the bog cotton hair smoking.
Because the sky is cloudless it is getting bright already.
At the station, see that the notebook has been left behind, resting on the table in the bedroom. This story is from memory, there are no notes.
The coffee service is disturbingly slow, the woman seems to be incapable of speeding up at all. Why, her good mornings are pleasant, but now there is always a line of people at the counter. Friendly, and inefficient.
And this is a terrible morning, the head is whistling like fury, the eyes will not focus properly. On the benches on the platform there is what appears to be a whole family of syrians, the women with bright scarves, the man in a bum freezer jacket, a sort of leather blouson.
They are waiting for the train, they look nervous. The children are sleeping
Silence.
Bathroom, shower and shave. The head is heavy with the cold, despite the warmth of the morning. The showere is almost fully blocked with lime now, it really will need to be cleared.
Turn the lights on in the bedroom, there is the cat Miriam on the bed, yawning to herself. Find the clothing where it had been left last night, Dress for the day, and collect all the items needed for this day. The cat wants to leave the house too, but it is not allowed to.
the misery of it, the keys are not to be found. Open the writing desk again, search, glasses on.
Take a pill.
The keys are in the bag after all, so leave the house.
It is really warm outside today. Move on past all the building site machinery all arrayed in front of the bank at the church. They will start work this week, tearing up the street for the new urban heating system.
The bus shelter with Dolores sitting in it, the man with the bog cotton hair smoking.
Because the sky is cloudless it is getting bright already.
At the station, see that the notebook has been left behind, resting on the table in the bedroom. This story is from memory, there are no notes.
The coffee service is disturbingly slow, the woman seems to be incapable of speeding up at all. Why, her good mornings are pleasant, but now there is always a line of people at the counter. Friendly, and inefficient.
And this is a terrible morning, the head is whistling like fury, the eyes will not focus properly. On the benches on the platform there is what appears to be a whole family of syrians, the women with bright scarves, the man in a bum freezer jacket, a sort of leather blouson.
They are waiting for the train, they look nervous. The children are sleeping
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