6.7.17
The bells ring outside, for the half hour, the three quarter hour and for the full hour. The various churches of Landshut telling us that time is elapsing.
Listen to the cat jump up onto the windowsill, walk about, and purr.
It is just about half an hour after dawn, shower, leave the face scruffy unshaven.
Descuidado.
Take the bag with the camera and go out into the alley. The church is lit orange by the low sun, the alley is in blue shade. There is a smell of decay in the alley, it is the heat of these days.
The main street is filled with grand stands for the weekend viewers of the pageant. There will be crowds there then, seventy five thousand last weekend.
Now there are just orange - clad city employees cleaning up the dirt and mess from last nights celebrations, people eating and drinking on the street, making a picnic on the stands.
At the bus stop, sort out the bus tickets that have remained in the wallet since yesterday, throw them into the bin attached to the lamp post.
At which moment, a small orange truck drives up onto the pavement and stops. It is a tiny truck, driven by one of the men in the day-glo orange outfits. The truck is so tiny that there is barely room for two seats in the front cabin. The man goes to the waste bin, unlocks it from the lamppost using a special key in his hand, throws the contents of the bin into the back of the truck, replaces the empty bin, says "Good Morning". Then the minute thing whirrs off up the pavement to the next waste paper bin. Put another piece of paper into the bin to see if it happens again.
It does not.
Teacherman walks out to the bus, the meanwhile arrived bus. He is wearing blue shorts today, most respectable. Dolores is not here today.
Pay the driver his due.
Bicycles are everywhere at the railway station, deposited by their owners without a care, maybe in a hurry to get to the earlier trains on time.
Say good morning to the smoker on his place at the ashtray, before the station steps.
The bells ring outside, for the half hour, the three quarter hour and for the full hour. The various churches of Landshut telling us that time is elapsing.
Listen to the cat jump up onto the windowsill, walk about, and purr.
It is just about half an hour after dawn, shower, leave the face scruffy unshaven.
Descuidado.
Take the bag with the camera and go out into the alley. The church is lit orange by the low sun, the alley is in blue shade. There is a smell of decay in the alley, it is the heat of these days.
The main street is filled with grand stands for the weekend viewers of the pageant. There will be crowds there then, seventy five thousand last weekend.
Now there are just orange - clad city employees cleaning up the dirt and mess from last nights celebrations, people eating and drinking on the street, making a picnic on the stands.
At the bus stop, sort out the bus tickets that have remained in the wallet since yesterday, throw them into the bin attached to the lamp post.
At which moment, a small orange truck drives up onto the pavement and stops. It is a tiny truck, driven by one of the men in the day-glo orange outfits. The truck is so tiny that there is barely room for two seats in the front cabin. The man goes to the waste bin, unlocks it from the lamppost using a special key in his hand, throws the contents of the bin into the back of the truck, replaces the empty bin, says "Good Morning". Then the minute thing whirrs off up the pavement to the next waste paper bin. Put another piece of paper into the bin to see if it happens again.
It does not.
Teacherman walks out to the bus, the meanwhile arrived bus. He is wearing blue shorts today, most respectable. Dolores is not here today.
Pay the driver his due.
Bicycles are everywhere at the railway station, deposited by their owners without a care, maybe in a hurry to get to the earlier trains on time.
Say good morning to the smoker on his place at the ashtray, before the station steps.
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