No. 6, as always.

Little sleep, hear the bells outside sound.
Look at the clock, and see that it is only three thirty.
Way too early in the morning

Listen to the bells sound the half hour, the three quarters of the hour, the full hour.

It is four
Get up, read the news. Portugal has won a major football game.
European champions now.
Good for them.
Muito bom


And the back to bed and sleep.

The bells at five, the mobile 'phone.
Shower, shave and so forth. There is no shaving cream left now.







The alley is warm, even at five thirty in the morning.
Today will be a hot day.

Dolores laughing at the bus stop, insanely pleased with herself for some reason.
Good.

The smoker with the pigtail, in front of the station, suitcase at his feet.

The coffee service at Yormas, and look at all the happy red men on television.
The messages on the television in Portuguese. After six months learning the lanquage, they are making sense now. Not perfectly understood, but making sense.
Reason to continue.
Maybe in a years time. Braga, Lisboa, who knows.

The train from Rosenheim is in, time to go to the platform

No. 6, as always.