Wednesday, 24 May 2017

dʌɪˈhiːdr(ə)l/ Dihedral

WED 24
standing under the trees at the small weather station by the river, took over the water at the bridge, and the big hotel. A pigeon comes in, head on, wings angled up, dihedral . It just flies straight on. Duck away to one side. Suicide dive pigeon.

Dolores is at the bus stop, waiting, sad faced, sorry. The bus to the station is nearly empty, and, once at the station, say hello to the pig tailed smoker. The cafe is closed, and the bakery is in a state of remorse disorder. A rude direction to order elsewhere, down the counter, is enough. The morning coffee will he had later, at work →
In the world of parallels, that is the railway station. somebody has swayed graffiti on a transport wagon for motor cars,  originally a yellow goods waggon.
And today it is just tiredness, the grip of the depression of the last few days has eased now, it was bad.
Better now.
admire the polished German landscape streaming by outside, green trees, yellow napus brassica fields, rivers.
Neat little houses, all freshly done up.
Parallel 

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