seven sixteen in the morning.
The time written on the top of the display says so, all the news has been read, all the news about the madness in the world, the rudeness of people towards each other, the contempt that humans have for those of their own species who hold different ideas.
And this is all normal.
A grey overcast day outside, a saturday morning in summer. Cars rumble over cobbles in some distant streets, pigeons call out their coos, and their is the creak of a flight of swans flying over the town from one water hole to the next.
The family is asleep, the son has slept on after having turned off his alarm clock. The cat has fed, and has gone back to sleep as well.
Above the clouds a jet airliner passes by.
It is not cold.
But it is a quiet morning
Will the times return where there is more to say?
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