so don't, give up, relax.

16 November 2016
Wake up in the black silence: slowly the light from the sky outside, it creeps into awareness, the reflections of street lamps in the clouds, glint on the window glasses of the houses in the neighbourhood. All visible from the warmth of the bed. The mobile telephone says that it is half an hour too early. Oh well, a longer shower, a more thorough shave.
Ten minutes extra.
and still the same walk under the sodium vapour lamps in the heavy drizzle of rain, avoiding one cyclist and one other pedestrian. Raincoats, head coverings, glistening cobbles, reflections from illuminated shop displays. A list of sombre things.

 Dolores as shawl-bearing, wearing, outline in the town gate, slowly heaving her weight from one foot to the nest, slowly proceeding on up to the bus shelter. The other daily travellers are there too, at the last minute teachermann arrives on his bicycle, parks this vehicle at the town gate, and hurries the last fifty yards.
Just as the bus arrives.
In the bus a woman is putting on her makeup. she is sitting in the rearward part of the bus; in a rearward facing seat.

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There is a new girl at the cafe. Slow, unhurried precise. It does not matter, because there are hardly any other people there,
 and tiredness takes its toll, it is hard to concentrate on anything today.

so don't, give up, relax.