among the woods of The Moos burg Marshes

Thursday,August 68, 246

the alley is bare, it is dark, the sky is barely to be seen, It is a dark blue, blackened.The sun has not risen yet The alley deserted, the main street too.

In the Theater street there is a woman walking two poodles.. The tiny animals are tangling their leads, one dog white, one dog black.

Say Good morning to Dolores, and watch the flock of seven ducks on the glass patch by the river. They are content, waddling about, grazing like sheep.

All at once, they all Turn towards the river, and start to waddle towards it at their best pedestrian pace.

The woman with her dogs has arrived, the dogs showing great' interest in all the fat ducks. Some of these birds start to flap their wings, and then they are all flying , a short distance to the river, and then Touch down in the current. All at a safe distance from the canine attention.

At his usual place in front of the railway station, there is the smoker with his short loosely fitting trousers. Good Morning, Gater Morgen.

It is two days ahead of the holidays, the two weeks to be spent in Italy, until the beginning of September.

Tiredness, it is too early in the morning, but the sun has risen by the time that the train reaches Moss Burg.

The river landscape is damp and foggy, clouds of steam rising from the streams meandering across the countryside and among the woods of The Moos burg Marshes.