There is no reason to be glad, but why be sad?

8 July 2016

Scramble, scrambling sound as the cat comes in

through the open window. A head pat, a purr, and

then the cat goes on to check out the kitchen.

A friendly cat.

The front door to the house has been left open, the

corridor is full of bicycles, and a bench. This is

just stuff left around, scattered idly.

Flocks of pigeons at the town gate, Teacher man

there too. The sunlight on the river, reflected from the sky.

Impressions of time before the mind is entirely present. Is

this depression, or what? It is not raining. Chover-the

Portuguese verb for 'to rain! E sol! It is not raining.

Railway station'. The pig tailed smoker, smokes

in the morning. The girl with the many tatoos

serves the coffee. silent television, german coach with

serious face..

The Rosenheim train has arrived, it is blocking the view

of all the other platforms now. cup of coffee.

The tinnitus, right, is almost gone. Did it serve on

some kind of fours? All is confusion.

On the railway platform, a young woman of, at the

best, thirty, black shirt shoes, tights. Hair. And smiling . happy. simple clothing, fitting perfectly. But all black,

oh.

The train is called "Landau". It moves in slowly, the people queue to board, barely letting those arrivals disembark.

All on board, and the days journey begins..

There is no reason to be glad, but why be sad?