26 January 2018
A cyclist rushes around the corner at the end of the alley. The alley known as Kirchgasse. He is wearing a loose rain jacket with its hood up. The bicycle has a piercingly bright white light, and with the huge nave of the saint Martins church in the background, and all being lit just by the dim street lanterns – well it is on apocalyptic rider on a bicycle. This was strange.
Carry on, as on every day, cross the AltStadt street and go down Theater strasse. Pass the truck at the bakery, proceed through the small side gate of the town entrance. Dolores is hurrying across the cobbles, to the kerb of the main road where a small car is waiting for her. See her climb on board, the car moves off to join the traffic on the main road.
The cobbles are greasy-looking in the dim light, an account of their being damp. Bog cotton man is waiting at the bus stop, exhaling smoke which blows away actress the road. Wish him a good morning..
It is not cold today, and the river has calmed down a bit, though it is still rough. There are no ducks today.
Pay the bus driver his fare, and find a seat in the bus. There is a man with unkempt long hair around a bald patch on his head staring atom from behind his wild moustache. His eyes roll a bit, then he looks away.
There is a emazingly beautiful young women buying coffee there too, black hair, dark skin, dearly, clearly modelled face, all these aspects, a fashionable parka. She is wearing a most awful pair of fur-topped boots, long haired fur, like Persian cat foot warmers. Nobody is perfect, perhaps, no, no idea. The boots are just strange, unsuited to the rest of the ensemble. Hope that they are house trained.
There is a crush of people trying to get off the bus first, everyone is in a greater hurry than their fellow passengers. Get off first, greet the smoker at the ashtray. A man with a pigtail and a rucksack, and a friendly expression. Then walk through the big hallway of the station, go to the Yorma's coffee shop. The shaven- headed man with the flowing beard is there waiting, ready to make a coffee, ready to stamp the discount card. The card was stamped twice yesterday, a second coffee ordered yesterday evening on the homeward 'journey being the cause.
The strange piddle-like puddle is still there, the bottom at the stair. Down the railway's tunnel, and up the steep granite stairs. The train is past coupling, all the doors have been locked. Wait, then follow the slowly moving train until it stops with a jerk.
Coupled !. Press the button on the door, red light.
Press the button again, green light. Now board the train, find a free seat with a table.
continue to write these notes, started in the cafe in Landshut railway.
A cyclist rushes around the corner at the end of the alley. The alley known as Kirchgasse. He is wearing a loose rain jacket with its hood up. The bicycle has a piercingly bright white light, and with the huge nave of the saint Martins church in the background, and all being lit just by the dim street lanterns – well it is on apocalyptic rider on a bicycle. This was strange.
Carry on, as on every day, cross the AltStadt street and go down Theater strasse. Pass the truck at the bakery, proceed through the small side gate of the town entrance. Dolores is hurrying across the cobbles, to the kerb of the main road where a small car is waiting for her. See her climb on board, the car moves off to join the traffic on the main road.
The cobbles are greasy-looking in the dim light, an account of their being damp. Bog cotton man is waiting at the bus stop, exhaling smoke which blows away actress the road. Wish him a good morning..
It is not cold today, and the river has calmed down a bit, though it is still rough. There are no ducks today.
Pay the bus driver his fare, and find a seat in the bus. There is a man with unkempt long hair around a bald patch on his head staring atom from behind his wild moustache. His eyes roll a bit, then he looks away.
There is a emazingly beautiful young women buying coffee there too, black hair, dark skin, dearly, clearly modelled face, all these aspects, a fashionable parka. She is wearing a most awful pair of fur-topped boots, long haired fur, like Persian cat foot warmers. Nobody is perfect, perhaps, no, no idea. The boots are just strange, unsuited to the rest of the ensemble. Hope that they are house trained.
There is a crush of people trying to get off the bus first, everyone is in a greater hurry than their fellow passengers. Get off first, greet the smoker at the ashtray. A man with a pigtail and a rucksack, and a friendly expression. Then walk through the big hallway of the station, go to the Yorma's coffee shop. The shaven- headed man with the flowing beard is there waiting, ready to make a coffee, ready to stamp the discount card. The card was stamped twice yesterday, a second coffee ordered yesterday evening on the homeward 'journey being the cause.
The strange piddle-like puddle is still there, the bottom at the stair. Down the railway's tunnel, and up the steep granite stairs. The train is past coupling, all the doors have been locked. Wait, then follow the slowly moving train until it stops with a jerk.
Coupled !. Press the button on the door, red light.
Press the button again, green light. Now board the train, find a free seat with a table.
continue to write these notes, started in the cafe in Landshut railway.
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