22 February 2018
the stream of unconsciousness is ended, get up, stretch, turn off the ipad. The pad is a considerate waker, with strumming guitar-like sounds. Shower, gather the clothing, dose the glazed doors.. Put some of that cream on the nose, it will prevent the silly honker from going vermillion, vermelho, red.
In the entrance passage to the house see that there is refuse scattered around the bins, people have not been careful. Leave it to the old man to clean up the others sloppiness. Stop the self pity - open the door to the street. The alley cold, cold and frozen dry. All the way to the town gates, not a soul on the street. See the bus stop from the town gate, one hundred paces, good morning to Dolores, Dolores grunts. The bog cotton man says 'good morning. And the bus arrives early. After paying the driver take a seat and wait in the throbbing bus, throbbing to the sound at the engine, wait with the bus until the timetable on the drivers display permits departure. A young woman is putting on her days make up, painting her eyebrows, reddening the cheeks of her face, passing the time on this bus.
Later, at the station, there is the smoker, with his rucksack and his long hair - Good morning. And in the cafe, service without a word.
Morning routines, running almost automatically.
the stream of unconsciousness is ended, get up, stretch, turn off the ipad. The pad is a considerate waker, with strumming guitar-like sounds. Shower, gather the clothing, dose the glazed doors.. Put some of that cream on the nose, it will prevent the silly honker from going vermillion, vermelho, red.
In the entrance passage to the house see that there is refuse scattered around the bins, people have not been careful. Leave it to the old man to clean up the others sloppiness. Stop the self pity - open the door to the street. The alley cold, cold and frozen dry. All the way to the town gates, not a soul on the street. See the bus stop from the town gate, one hundred paces, good morning to Dolores, Dolores grunts. The bog cotton man says 'good morning. And the bus arrives early. After paying the driver take a seat and wait in the throbbing bus, throbbing to the sound at the engine, wait with the bus until the timetable on the drivers display permits departure. A young woman is putting on her days make up, painting her eyebrows, reddening the cheeks of her face, passing the time on this bus.
Later, at the station, there is the smoker, with his rucksack and his long hair - Good morning. And in the cafe, service without a word.
Morning routines, running almost automatically.
No comments:
Post a Comment