granite steps are high and awful

24 January 2018
Freshened by the shower, put on the clothing, pack the bag. Look in the mirror, and realise who the old guy in there is. Exhausted appearance, it will be hard to fix that. Grey hair, pale, reddish nose. Age has taken toll, and now exhaustion. The face is older, the light unflattering. 
So so. Having finished the critical examination, what the hell, go down the stairs and leave the house, Check the better box, there is nothing in there.. The alley is damp, there is light rain, and it is all in the winter darkness. Start to imagine pains in the legs, but it is just that it is impossible to walk faster.
River ISAR is fall and rushing Today, noisy waves glistening in the light from the hotel breakfast rooms on the other side. A noisy river accommodating all the snow that has melted in the last days. There is no snow left now, it is just wet and dark.
A short good morning for Dolores on her seat in the bus shelter. A nod in reply. Look at the uneven water in the river, it looks like muscle fibres flexing, showing their strength. A smell of stale tobacco, and fresh smoke.
The bog cotton man says his good morgen, great him in return. Likewise, the same as every day. Open the wallet, there will be no change for the bus driver today, too bad. Wait, there is a twenty cent coin, that will save the man having to count out copper money.
From the bus see the smoker standing in front of the station, lit from behind by the light from the station hallway falling through the glass front of the building. He is throwing a shadow, all very dramatic, very sinister in its way.
Good morning, and into the cafe. The confused woman is serving lady, trying to do two or more things at the same time, just like her colleagues. She fails, she is just slow and disorganised. But then, the coffee is there, the fourth stamp on the ticket, now all is complete.
Say good morning to the man in the blue overall who looked like a hedgehog once. He looks lived too, the last seven years have not made him any younger. Seven years commuting, seven
years up early in the morning.
The strange feeling of having aged overnight does not stop, it continues to make itself felt on the way down the tiled corridors Avoid the yellow puddle on the ground there before the stairs. The first time it had been mistaken as a product of incontinence, or maybe canine in origin.
But that puddle is there every day it rains, it is a leak in the reinforced concrete, rusty water, rust contaminated yellow water making a puddle under a beam of seventy year old reinforced concrete.

The granite steps are high and awful again today, the knees and the hips have not waken up completely yet, and complain at the strain. Perhaps more exorcise would be in order.


The train is late, the driver cannot couple the two trains, there is a delay. That is it, find a seat, with a table, all alone and continue to write those notes, notes that are steadily losing their purpose, maybe they have served theirs already