Thursday 11 May
sleep behind the mask, a steady pressure brings air to the lungs. A waken to the beeping noise of the alarm clock, and get up and go to the bathroom. A habitual morning movement. shower and shave the tiny stubble from the face.
and return to the bedroom, sort the clothes out of the wardrobe. The cat watches from the bed, where it has decided to wait. Then it gets up, starts a throaty purr, and nuzzles the hand, in the hope that she will be fed.
No, feeding is to be done by the wife, later.
Turn on the computer, the cat jumps to the lap. See that it is five thirty there is no time for that now, get up from the chair, down the stairs. -
There is the sound of bird song, the sky is pale blue, washed out. Limpid. Limpar. Wash. And the birds are singing, sometimes this sounds like a machine that needs oil.
A man with a cyclists helmet leaves the house, opposite side of the street, around the corner. struggles to take his bicycle out of the narrow entrance, then to jump onto the machine and pedals off. Another man comes around the corner,' at Grimmes shop, he says a Good Morning.
A near collision.
And at the bus stop, there is Dolores. Wish her a good Morning. Th usual mutual meaningless felicitations,
Structures. Money for the bus driver, last on board the bus,.
Young woman staring unashamed on the bus, quite a beauty. But do not stare back, do not.
good morning to the man with the pigtail. And then the café, catch the blonde woman eye, 'Ja, Bitte?" Yes please. say big black coffee, or just big coffee. The machine is working and whilst we are waiting she deals with other customers, and forgets-The bald -shaven man notices, and proffers the meanwhile-filled cup.
Later climb those granite stairs to the platform, just as the train arrives there. The sun is low, Blinding.
Find a seat, and soon the train proceeds on its way through a bright and clear landscape, the incident light from the low sun picking out every tiny detail in the fields and hedgerows of this Bavarian riverside landscape.
The train stops at Modbury, translated-the castle in the bog. Moosburg.
More passengers the train fits.
and the view outside turns foggy, it is the river, meandering through the fields, the moisture drawn out of the wet air by the cold.
The warmth of the sun dispels the fog now, now the train is at Freising- All these regular things.
sleep behind the mask, a steady pressure brings air to the lungs. A waken to the beeping noise of the alarm clock, and get up and go to the bathroom. A habitual morning movement. shower and shave the tiny stubble from the face.
and return to the bedroom, sort the clothes out of the wardrobe. The cat watches from the bed, where it has decided to wait. Then it gets up, starts a throaty purr, and nuzzles the hand, in the hope that she will be fed.
No, feeding is to be done by the wife, later.
Turn on the computer, the cat jumps to the lap. See that it is five thirty there is no time for that now, get up from the chair, down the stairs. -
There is the sound of bird song, the sky is pale blue, washed out. Limpid. Limpar. Wash. And the birds are singing, sometimes this sounds like a machine that needs oil.
A man with a cyclists helmet leaves the house, opposite side of the street, around the corner. struggles to take his bicycle out of the narrow entrance, then to jump onto the machine and pedals off. Another man comes around the corner,' at Grimmes shop, he says a Good Morning.
A near collision.
And at the bus stop, there is Dolores. Wish her a good Morning. Th usual mutual meaningless felicitations,
Structures. Money for the bus driver, last on board the bus,.
Young woman staring unashamed on the bus, quite a beauty. But do not stare back, do not.
good morning to the man with the pigtail. And then the café, catch the blonde woman eye, 'Ja, Bitte?" Yes please. say big black coffee, or just big coffee. The machine is working and whilst we are waiting she deals with other customers, and forgets-The bald -shaven man notices, and proffers the meanwhile-filled cup.
Later climb those granite stairs to the platform, just as the train arrives there. The sun is low, Blinding.
Find a seat, and soon the train proceeds on its way through a bright and clear landscape, the incident light from the low sun picking out every tiny detail in the fields and hedgerows of this Bavarian riverside landscape.
The train stops at Modbury, translated-the castle in the bog. Moosburg.
More passengers the train fits.
and the view outside turns foggy, it is the river, meandering through the fields, the moisture drawn out of the wet air by the cold.
The warmth of the sun dispels the fog now, now the train is at Freising- All these regular things.
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