early sunday morning

awake for an hour now, sitting in the living room with it's weak central light yellow. Lighting the dim untidiness, the son's schoolbooks scattered on the floor.

There is a noise of revelry, then of screaming coming in through the window. It is all quite far away, there is no real position for it., no knowing where it is coming from. Police cars hurry past the window, driving fast without their sirens on. This is in order, it is three in the morning, who wants to wake up all of the town?

It is now four in the morning, there is no sleep, the bells of saint Martin's church outside sounding to themselves, for whom it may concern.

Just the sound of two men's talk echoing through the alley, an airconditioning appliance and that is it.

Dead silent night now.

And then the sound of drunk screaming in the distance.

whoopee!

The sound of more saturday night revelry echos through the street, people going home after a lively night out on the town
Hard voices, rough, slurred with drink. Giggling laughter from somewhere.
This is all to be heard in the silence of the night, early in the morning.

Four thirty.