black

Listen to all the raine drip into the yard outside the window. Listen to the snores of the wife and the sound of the first cars on this Tuesday morning. It is all despondent, personal despondency. The sound of the rain is beautiful, dream of a walk in the worods with the sound of the water on a weatherproof cape. That is only a dream, the depressions are just to great to get up and go, to take the effort necessary to attain even that simple pleasure. Then get up, go upstairs to turn off the alarm on the mobile 'phone which had been left up there for whatever reason last night. 

Make the usual breakfast, read the news. The news is the usual depressing mixture of bloodshed and speculation, the British and the Americans reporting with great interest on the pros and cons of various heavy weapons. It is all in the same language as that used in the description of high society and the comparison of luxury vehicles.

The iron tablets were supposed to increase the zest for life, it was hoped that they would end the anaemic struggle with the day's challenges and lead to a different, more outgoing and generally more happy person.

The frigging things don't lead anywhere but to cause black shit.