wake up. it is dark.
sleep on, it is Saturday.
wake up, it is bright.
Get up, it is time to move.
Wake up, it is time to wash.
A man walks down the alley, a man in a white dress shirt and black trousers, black shiny shoes. He stops underneath the window, takes out his mobile telephone, takes a picture of the church at the end of the street, like so many before him. He is wandering about town, on his own, at a loose end. Maybe a guest of one of the hotels.
The cat wants attention. It wants food. The cat has wants.
Son gets up.
The cat is overjoyed.
He supplies food.
A car passes by outside, leaving the town early, seven fifteen.
One bell sounding singly from Saint Martins.
The son is already busy with his computers, his friends will come by later, they will all have a party.
He is thirteen years old yesterday.
Party today.
Make coffee, sit down, relax.
What are weekends for?
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