nothing

Sit on the park bench, resting at nine in the morning. There was no knowledge as to why the climb up was so strenous today, out of breath so soon.

A man with a brown jacket and trekking shoes, corduroy trousers and a hat with a wide brim passes. He say good morning, and wish him the same back. Sit there on the bench, admire the foliage on the trees, admire the little path, be happy because of the sun's warming rays. 

That is all, just sit there and think. Think of the planned journey to France, in the coming weeks, at the end of this month. Just sit and relax, let the heartbeat slow down, take off the hoodie. It is good to sit in the park, it is just nice.

Go on, the park is deserted so early on a Sunday morning, the town is not as noisy as it was yesterday.

The birds in their enclosure are doing their various things, it is amusing to watch some irate geese chase a duck. For whatever reason. A goosey reason.

Walk on down the back way, the man with the hat approaches.

He has done his round.

Nod in passing

Sunday walk.

Take the back road , down the hill, through the town. There is the sound of loud music from the old school,  from an old school building.

A dance club, maybe, Or a fitness club. There is the loud voice shouting instructions as the music changes.

Some people are active early.