sunday pictures

refrigerator hum and ticking clocks, hissy sound in the right ear and an occasional rumble from rubber tyres over a cobbled pavement outside.

Small town Sunday, few people working, few tourists under on the street yet.

A grey day, dim diffused even lighting from that water vapour scrim all over the sky.

Perfect for depressing fotos.

Eight fory one.

There is a wine bottle, seven eighths empty beside the couch, and  a used wine glass beside it.

Last night in front of the television.

three bells.

Time is flowing away.

Time to go and time to make those pictures, planned so long.

The weather and the time are right.

The coffee made, and drunk, a black brew of the cheapest italian coffee.

Nothing else has that bitter taste, freshly ground, in a big coffee maker.

The kind made of aluminium, three parts, an inset for the ground coffee, the base for the water, and the screw-on receptable for the finished coffee.

Fifty years ago, one of those exploded in our kitchen.

on account of the coffee having been ground too fine.

There are more cars outside now.

It is time to go.