Shout at her in Turkish

the bronchitis will not go away, not as speedily as had been hoped.
Awake before the alarm, hear the church bells, then the tablet starts to make its noises. Silence that.
Take a shower, brush the teeth.
And when all is done, there are five minutes to spare. sit in the flagstone-floored hall, waiting for the time to pass.
Wait for the two bells from Saint Martins church.
Hurry down the alley, cross the market place, and go on down the theater street to the big neo-gothic town gate. The ducks and the pigeons are all there, all having been fed already, the ground still covered in small cubes of cut bread. But there are many hungry pigeons, they will get rid of it, and then spread the results of their digestion over the buildings and monuments of the old town.
The man who feeds the birds is spreading more breadcrumbs on the wall along the river, he seems to see that as his mission. It is not so that the animals would be undernourished, now in the spring, but he seems to derive pleasure from feeding them. And it is not really spring anymore, it is summer.

At the bus stop, say giod morning to Dolores, she is sitting in the bus shelter. The bog cotton man is standing there smoking, his hair waving unite in the breeze.
Good morning
A short man - approaches, a man with a self important stumpy gait, goes to the bus shelter, and sits down beside Dolores. He starts to shout at her in Turkish, the volume and the guttural language grating on the nerves so early in the morning. She answers quietly in the same language.

Coffee at Yomas, the card is full, free coffee today, and a new card. The big bald man shouts "Andrea. as he sees that there is a sudden crowd of customers there, and that he is going to need help.

The train rolls through a landscape deep green because of all the wet and the heat.
The day will be damp, and warm.