six, five. Five in the morning. Shower, brush the teeth, do not bother to shave. It will be a tired day at work. The cat is lying on it's back on the bed, not curled up as cats often are.
Gather clothes from the wardrobe, a shirt, a pair of trousers, underwear, shoes, pieces for the day, collect the small items, go down the stairs, out into the dark alley.
The entrances to all the houses are blocked with small heaps of yellow plastic bags. Some have ten, others only two , depending upon the amount of packaging used up in that house during the last two weeks.
The sky is a dark deep blue, it will be at least forty minutes until dawn. This blue is reflected in the river, a river thus black and blue, the yellow lights from the hotel reflecting too, sparkling in the rough surface of the steady flow of the passing water. Watch whilst waiting for the bus. A man walks by slowly, struggling with a bad cough, smoking a cigarette.
In the bus, a most beautiful young woman sits, listens to loud music on her phone, a jangling noise with a hissy beat from her earphones. Her curly black hair surrounds her head like a dark halo, her eyes are distant, dreaming still. Look away, watch the buildings pass on the other side of the street as the bus moves on towards the station. Look back again, brightly lit petrol station outside the bus. The woman looks away, she had been looking over and now looks away in a hurry. That is the way it goes. She gets up and leaves, lights up a cigarette as soon as she has left the bus. She looks over once again, so look away. Curiosity, no commitment.
The girl with the indian facial features is on service at the cafe, a measured pace of work, calm, but still succeeds well in getting her work done quickly.
On the train to Munich a group of policemen across the carriage have coffee and cake on the way to work.
A breakfast party on the way to work in Munich, brown chocolate cake and a thermos flask full of coffee, blue plastic mugs without handles.
Dawn is just breaking as the train reaches Freising
Gather clothes from the wardrobe, a shirt, a pair of trousers, underwear, shoes, pieces for the day, collect the small items, go down the stairs, out into the dark alley.
The entrances to all the houses are blocked with small heaps of yellow plastic bags. Some have ten, others only two , depending upon the amount of packaging used up in that house during the last two weeks.
The sky is a dark deep blue, it will be at least forty minutes until dawn. This blue is reflected in the river, a river thus black and blue, the yellow lights from the hotel reflecting too, sparkling in the rough surface of the steady flow of the passing water. Watch whilst waiting for the bus. A man walks by slowly, struggling with a bad cough, smoking a cigarette.
In the bus, a most beautiful young woman sits, listens to loud music on her phone, a jangling noise with a hissy beat from her earphones. Her curly black hair surrounds her head like a dark halo, her eyes are distant, dreaming still. Look away, watch the buildings pass on the other side of the street as the bus moves on towards the station. Look back again, brightly lit petrol station outside the bus. The woman looks away, she had been looking over and now looks away in a hurry. That is the way it goes. She gets up and leaves, lights up a cigarette as soon as she has left the bus. She looks over once again, so look away. Curiosity, no commitment.
The girl with the indian facial features is on service at the cafe, a measured pace of work, calm, but still succeeds well in getting her work done quickly.
On the train to Munich a group of policemen across the carriage have coffee and cake on the way to work.
A breakfast party on the way to work in Munich, brown chocolate cake and a thermos flask full of coffee, blue plastic mugs without handles.
Dawn is just breaking as the train reaches Freising
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