atrocity

Tuesday, 29th January, 2019

There is snow falling in small grains today, it has covered the grey dustbin in front of the door.

There is wind too, the small snowflakes get blown into the unprotected face. Put the hood of the jacket up, that stops the head getting cold and wet. At the junction of the old market and the theatre street there are seven brass cobbles let into the ground. These are a reminder of the atrocities committed here eighty years ago. They have names

written on them. They have been adorned with roses, and there are candles there as well. There must have been a commemoration ceremony here on the street yesterday.

In the meantime, the street is fairly covered in snow, everything is all white, like a Christmas card. Dolores is in the bus stops's shelter, the taxi driver arrives shortly after. Watch the cars driving by, more carefully than usual, because of the snow. There is a man standing on  the opposite corner, slowly being covered in snow.

A car pulls up, he shakes the snow off, and removes his rucksack, steps forward and opens the car door, and gets in. The car drives away.

Then the bus arrives, first Dolores and then the taxi driver step into the vehicle. Pay the driver fare to the railway station.

Snow covers the ground in front of the railway station, the yellow square delineating the smoking area is obscured. The smoker is therefore at the top of the steps, under the shelter of the concrete awning in front of the station, smoking. He need not stand in his square today, because it is invisible.