stopped raining

Early riser on Christmas day, the best intentions for making it pleasant, having a walk around the town whilst everybody is sleeping.
It is raining, rain on Christmas day.

Christmas is important, even to those who say it is not.

The rain drops are falling steadily, the cobbled alley outside the window glistening wet stones, the portuguese wine baar on the other side of the road is silent and shut.

What do you expect at eight in the morning?

Bells are ringing, twice. It is half past eight. Sleepy still, but what would be the point of continueing to lie in bed and to look at the dim cieling, or to close the eyes to the increasing daylight crawling around the eyelids, shining red through the translucent skin.

Therefore sit in the living room, listen to the two clocks there tic and toc to each other, almost syncronous but probably not quite. The tin christmas tree decorated by the son last night,  a small bush. Why should such a huge Christmas tree stand there decorating the corner of the room, just for Christmas week. But it was important for the young son, He likes the family.


Alone in the sitting room, now resolve to pick up the camera and to go for a walk.
It has, after all, stopped raining.