It is early light again, grey flat and cold. It is misery, Disturbed
But get up, go to the bathroom, return, put on day clothing, and take the little grey notebook out to the living room. The old eyes attempt to focus on the tiny script on the screen. There is no news now, and nobody has written.
And it is seven fifteen
It is satuday
And there is nothing happening, nothing going to happen
There are heaps of things everywhere, piles of books, repurposed jam jars holding pens and pencils and a metal basket on the piano containing a pineapple.
The clock is ticking away to itself, a french clock working fine, using a german Varta battery.
The cat is padding about looking for things, it is probably depressive too.
Or maybe it is just hungry.
Downstairs the door slams as the tenant collects her bicycle.
She stores it in the passage overnight
And the son has come into the sitting room and has fallen asleep on the sofa.
So much for his plans to get up early and study.
But get up, go to the bathroom, return, put on day clothing, and take the little grey notebook out to the living room. The old eyes attempt to focus on the tiny script on the screen. There is no news now, and nobody has written.
And it is seven fifteen
It is satuday
And there is nothing happening, nothing going to happen
There are heaps of things everywhere, piles of books, repurposed jam jars holding pens and pencils and a metal basket on the piano containing a pineapple.
The clock is ticking away to itself, a french clock working fine, using a german Varta battery.
The cat is padding about looking for things, it is probably depressive too.
Or maybe it is just hungry.
Downstairs the door slams as the tenant collects her bicycle.
She stores it in the passage overnight
And the son has come into the sitting room and has fallen asleep on the sofa.
So much for his plans to get up early and study.
No comments:
Post a Comment