17 June 2015
l't is damp weather, a few spots of rain still forming on the pavement's .
But it is not raining .
The path to the bus stop is lost in routine, the details are gone .
They are forgotten as soon as they occur .
There is a row of pigeons sitting on the wall waiting to see what the day will supply .
Look down whilst passing .
Who knows? Pigeon droppings on the nose are a sobering thought.
Dolores is at the bus stop, a friendly smile today .
The river in the background is still in flood, flowing fast between the walls constraining it.
The hotel on the other side is now hidden by the trees foliage .
Later, moving on, crossing the flood drain on the bus, see that the small streams are all a dark brown, muddy, slimy-looking .
They are full of liquid mud, mud that they will deposit further downstream.
The scene in front of the station is the same as every day, the smoker is wearing a hat, protecting his pigtail from the danger of getting wet .
The coffee girl today, slow and friendly, otherwise as every day.
A large coffee, some as every day .
Hedgehog is just leaving the cafe, freshly scrubbed face and a clean, bright green overall .
There is football on the television today, yesterdays game is being commented on .
, but the sound is off .
There are pictures of dissapointed faces .
And as the small diesel train comes in, go down the stairs, stairs of granite .
A tunnel with tiled walls, built under the railway tracks .
And up again, to the doubtful day, a day of no rain and no sun .
Aboard the train, silence but for a small group talking .
The man opposite is sleeping, slumped in his seat .
Seat covers are some kind of blue velvet with black squares printed thereon .
The backrests are bleached white, from the many many backs .
l't is damp weather, a few spots of rain still forming on the pavement's .
But it is not raining .
The path to the bus stop is lost in routine, the details are gone .
They are forgotten as soon as they occur .
There is a row of pigeons sitting on the wall waiting to see what the day will supply .
Look down whilst passing .
Who knows? Pigeon droppings on the nose are a sobering thought.
Dolores is at the bus stop, a friendly smile today .
The river in the background is still in flood, flowing fast between the walls constraining it.
The hotel on the other side is now hidden by the trees foliage .
Later, moving on, crossing the flood drain on the bus, see that the small streams are all a dark brown, muddy, slimy-looking .
They are full of liquid mud, mud that they will deposit further downstream.
The scene in front of the station is the same as every day, the smoker is wearing a hat, protecting his pigtail from the danger of getting wet .
The coffee girl today, slow and friendly, otherwise as every day.
A large coffee, some as every day .
Hedgehog is just leaving the cafe, freshly scrubbed face and a clean, bright green overall .
There is football on the television today, yesterdays game is being commented on .
, but the sound is off .
There are pictures of dissapointed faces .
And as the small diesel train comes in, go down the stairs, stairs of granite .
A tunnel with tiled walls, built under the railway tracks .
And up again, to the doubtful day, a day of no rain and no sun .
Aboard the train, silence but for a small group talking .
The man opposite is sleeping, slumped in his seat .
Seat covers are some kind of blue velvet with black squares printed thereon .
The backrests are bleached white, from the many many backs .
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