Branco

Friday, 11th January, 2019

The cat clambers onto the human knees, for

a caress in the morning.

Put on the watch, the cat is purring on the

knees, depositing cat hairs on the black

trousers. After a while, pick the cat up and

put it on the ground.

The alley is dry, but for a line of snow

in the gutter on either side. The cobbles are

a rough matt dark grey. It is cold. E frio.

Think of' the attempts to learn Portuguese. The

snow, neve Branco and the stones, preto. It is

harder when there is no great talent for language

and there is nobody to speak to.

Dolores is at the bus stop, good mornings

are exchanged. It has started to snow, the

single isolated snowflake has been joined by

millions of others. They are light and fluffy,

they are floating to the ground slowly.

By the time the mornings short bus ride is over,

the snow has turned into a blizzard of sorts,

the ground has turned white. The smoker is

standing at his place by the ashtray, there

is snow on his head and his shoulders.

Wish him a good morning, and hurry

to the cafe to get coffee,

Neufahrn railway and bakery