park bench

Talking to the tenant in her office on the ground floor this morning. The door to her office is open, as always,  and today it lets in the Easter Saturday morning sun.
She is in a good humour, she will see her family in the small town despite social distancing rules. Say nothing about this, she will not be alone. It is foolhardy, but there is no stopping madness.

A short discussion on maintenance matters, and rent, and then that is all. Continue on the walk to the big park, it is eleven in the morning. There are few people about, the neighbour says good morning in passing, he is on his bicycle, maybe returning from the shops.

There is a young woman walking ahead with a swaying pigtail. She is carrying a box, this is strange. Why would somebody carry a large cardboard box into the park. Inside the park she takes the steep path. Take a left at the junction, there is a chance of being left alone here, a chance of not bothering anybody and being bothered by nobody. Then take the steep path, the one that leads to the devil's bridge. The devil's bridge is a wooden causeway, made where the terrain is to steep for a path.

Far ahead there is an older man, walking slowly. Slow down to let him go ahead, there is no wish to overtake him at all.  He is a man with white hair and a bit of a stoop.

At the top of the hill look back, look out over the town, the tips of the church spire of the small church is below the level of the horizon now, the one of the big church is taller. It is the tallest brick built church spire in Europe.

Sit on a park bench for a while, then go on.