15 of December 2017 the tablet sounds,
strumming sound from the machine ending a deep and sound sleep. It would have been nice for sleep to continue but the plans out are different. Got up, go to the bathroom. The shower had been taken last night, so bathroom, and back into the bedroom.
put the clothes for the day together. The cat comes in, it rubs its arched back against the freshly clothed legs, then jumps up onto the bed and continues to sleep there.
Cats are predators they spend most of their days sleeping.
The alley is damp today, and it is cold. Passing the corner by the church there is a strong wind, a solitary draught, caught around the church spire, twisting over the old graveyard.. The push of the wind changes direction, cross the street with ice wind blowing straight into the face, finding every crack and crevice in the clothing . Blow cold air onto the warm skin that had been in bed not half an hour ago. Join Dolores in the bus shelter today, the shelter with its metal and glass walls providing some protection from the wind. A few minutes later, she is collected, a small white car driven by a large man with a moustache stops at the kerb, she staggers over (she does not walk well anymore), and opens the door.
Two minutes later the has arrives, pay the driver, sit down. Across the central passage of the bus there is a single policeman blue uniform, blonde hair.
At the mutiny station, go to the crowded busy cafe counter, wait, order coffee, pay, wait, get the coffee, go to the lid dispenser on the mall sideboard, get a lid, go to a table, say good morning to Mr. Hedgehog, and take this notebook and pen from the brown shoulder bag.
Ten minutes scribbling notes, hear. sounds from the surroundings receed, muffled by the concentration on the work. There is the fussy man, his constrained uptight voice, a high pitched pressed sound, as if he is trying to talk through clenched teeth. His partner has arrived.
Then follow them on their way down the stairs, both with a rucksack, both with a shoulder bag, he larger and taller, she shorter and smaller. A fussy couple, all things neatly packed, him with a hood from a cowled sweater up over his head, she with a felt het, Afghan style, over her head.
strumming sound from the machine ending a deep and sound sleep. It would have been nice for sleep to continue but the plans out are different. Got up, go to the bathroom. The shower had been taken last night, so bathroom, and back into the bedroom.
put the clothes for the day together. The cat comes in, it rubs its arched back against the freshly clothed legs, then jumps up onto the bed and continues to sleep there.
Cats are predators they spend most of their days sleeping.
The alley is damp today, and it is cold. Passing the corner by the church there is a strong wind, a solitary draught, caught around the church spire, twisting over the old graveyard.. The push of the wind changes direction, cross the street with ice wind blowing straight into the face, finding every crack and crevice in the clothing . Blow cold air onto the warm skin that had been in bed not half an hour ago. Join Dolores in the bus shelter today, the shelter with its metal and glass walls providing some protection from the wind. A few minutes later, she is collected, a small white car driven by a large man with a moustache stops at the kerb, she staggers over (she does not walk well anymore), and opens the door.
Two minutes later the has arrives, pay the driver, sit down. Across the central passage of the bus there is a single policeman blue uniform, blonde hair.
At the mutiny station, go to the crowded busy cafe counter, wait, order coffee, pay, wait, get the coffee, go to the lid dispenser on the mall sideboard, get a lid, go to a table, say good morning to Mr. Hedgehog, and take this notebook and pen from the brown shoulder bag.
Ten minutes scribbling notes, hear. sounds from the surroundings receed, muffled by the concentration on the work. There is the fussy man, his constrained uptight voice, a high pitched pressed sound, as if he is trying to talk through clenched teeth. His partner has arrived.
Then follow them on their way down the stairs, both with a rucksack, both with a shoulder bag, he larger and taller, she shorter and smaller. A fussy couple, all things neatly packed, him with a hood from a cowled sweater up over his head, she with a felt het, Afghan style, over her head.
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