Thursday, July fourteenth.
.
Rain outside, rain in the dark.
The clouds are so thick that they have obscured most of the morning light, so the only by the warmth is it to be recognised that it is almost mid July.
The melody from the mobile phone says when it is time to get up, shower and shave.
Today is the day when → the twenty fifth year on the job is to be celebrated.
Basically, go into the central office, listen to some story being told, get a lapel pin.
Fnish showering shaving, put on a grey coat after the better jacket.
The day will be a different Today, later on.
It is raining outside, the street lamps in the alley are not out yet. Everything is wet.
The small umbrella serves well
↳ The street lights go out as the town gates are left behind, walk on to the bus stop , and good morning wishes to Dolores, wrapped in her coat and scarf.
The river, swollen, roaring from the flood gates, not entirely full yet, but with carrying more water than the power plant can use.
Water has already been diverted into the side arm, the surface of the river is rough It is the colour of tea with milk again.
Teacher arrives on a bicycle, complete with his hat.
Who knows why he leaves his cycle at the town gates, to then take the bus for the next kilometre.
Why does he not use the bicycle for the whole journey?
The cafe is damp and dim, the television is showing pictures of vintage cars, among them Wildo's first car, and then the news from great Britain with its new prime Minister.
Despite its roofing, the platform is wet and miserable.
The train comes in, those waiting for the doors to open follow it down the platform as it mches along to complete its coupling operation with the waiting front part of the train.
All the waiting commuters are:
In such a hurry to board the train, to make sure of seating for themselves.
.
.
leaving landshut the train moves out of the station at the same time, and at the same speed as the small train to Rosenheim.
It is to be seen outside the window for quite some time, travelling alongside, before it takes the side line and vanishes in the wet trees.
The landscape in the countryside is deep green under a grey sky, the rivers swollen and turgid as they pass through what are now swamps.
The middle of July is very wet
.
Rain outside, rain in the dark.
The clouds are so thick that they have obscured most of the morning light, so the only by the warmth is it to be recognised that it is almost mid July.
The melody from the mobile phone says when it is time to get up, shower and shave.
Today is the day when → the twenty fifth year on the job is to be celebrated.
Basically, go into the central office, listen to some story being told, get a lapel pin.
Fnish showering shaving, put on a grey coat after the better jacket.
The day will be a different Today, later on.
It is raining outside, the street lamps in the alley are not out yet. Everything is wet.
The small umbrella serves well
↳ The street lights go out as the town gates are left behind, walk on to the bus stop , and good morning wishes to Dolores, wrapped in her coat and scarf.
The river, swollen, roaring from the flood gates, not entirely full yet, but with carrying more water than the power plant can use.
Water has already been diverted into the side arm, the surface of the river is rough It is the colour of tea with milk again.
Teacher arrives on a bicycle, complete with his hat.
Who knows why he leaves his cycle at the town gates, to then take the bus for the next kilometre.
Why does he not use the bicycle for the whole journey?
The cafe is damp and dim, the television is showing pictures of vintage cars, among them Wildo's first car, and then the news from great Britain with its new prime Minister.
Despite its roofing, the platform is wet and miserable.
The train comes in, those waiting for the doors to open follow it down the platform as it mches along to complete its coupling operation with the waiting front part of the train.
All the waiting commuters are:
In such a hurry to board the train, to make sure of seating for themselves.
.
.
leaving landshut the train moves out of the station at the same time, and at the same speed as the small train to Rosenheim.
It is to be seen outside the window for quite some time, travelling alongside, before it takes the side line and vanishes in the wet trees.
The landscape in the countryside is deep green under a grey sky, the rivers swollen and turgid as they pass through what are now swamps.
The middle of July is very wet
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