A spot of blood on the fresh shirt in the morning, a sratch on the nose, bleeding. They are two spots, one on the collar.
Take the shirt off again, and put on a blue shirt from the wardrobe.
Close the window to the street, it had been left open last night.
Pat the cat's head, before leaving the house. The blue bin is in front, it contains wastepaper. It is starting to rain, the day is cloudy, the sky gray and dim.
Today, the dry weather will end. There is a small umbrella in the canvas bag. But leave it there, the rain is no more than a few drops yet.
Pass the new café, it is not a café but a bakery. Yellow and white, the name Mareis all over it, large letters. It is just putting out it's stock into the shelves for the day.
Dolores is there, she wishes a good morning. Tell the money for the bus fare into the hand from the wallet, be the last to board the bus. Give the driver the money, she is a woman with a headscarf today She drives quickly, but rather well, there are no jerks and lurches tobe felt.
The young girl, the woman with the Rastafarian hair is in the bus today, sitting there with her eyes wide opens, the golden ropes of hair about her head.
At the station, the rain has intensified, but still-There is the smoker at the ash tray, between a blue skip and a delivery truck.
The sky has grown darker now,
No comments:
Post a Comment