A butterfly flys inthrough the open window, and finding a dark spot in the corner of the frame settles there and folds its wings. It becomes nearly invisible. The weather outside is cooler, and the light is even and grey quite unlike the unfiltered glare from the sun of the last days. Hopefully, the butterfly does not intend to stay there, it is a bad place to remain in, the peace will be disrupted the next time that the windows are cleaned.
There is a crew of plasterers in the flat next door. They are calling to each other in a language that is neither German nor English nor French. It may be some eastern European language, they call to each other quietly unlike the booming shouts of the German owners of the flat. The Germans do not intend to be loud, they do not appear to be able to do anything else.
The kitchen this morning was a disaster, the only way is to pick through the mess left over from whatever went on there last night, and try to make breakfast without adding to the chaotic situation. A cup starts to slip from the place that it is balance on the pile of dirty dishes beside the sink. Watch as the left hand shoots out to catch it just as it begins to fall, and as conscious thought starts, replace the item on the pile of items. They are destined for the dishwasher sometime.
It is good to see that the reactions are still functioning despite increasing age.
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