The sound of rain on the leaves outside the window
The feeling of being trapped
The sounds the cat makes as it demands food
The wish to be elsewhere without knowing why
Later the silence in the living room
The pleasure of making breakfast
The second cup of coffee
There is plenty to do and no concept of how to do it or where to start
No point even in trying to impart a rhythm to these words
Ideally they would be written on a scrap of paper and dropped into the street
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