Monday morning and the retiree languor of the last days is continuing, sleep longer and dispel the weakness felt during the past weeks, let us hope that strength is coming back week for week. A game that will be lost over time because that which is lost can never be fully restored, even if it can be restored in any way at all.
It is eight in the morning and the breeze blows through the open windows of the tiny incomplete third floor flat. It is not the kind of place to evoke any jealousy among the very proper neighbours, it is a bit like a child's hut in a tree, all made of make believe and not quite right in any artisan's opinion. But it is a peaceful place and it is a refuge, with a steadily ticking clock to remind the world that time is fleeing, And that is worthwhile, all for now.
The sun is blaring out of a clear blue sky, remember the joy of the downpour and thunder of a few days ago, the quick rush of the water pouring off the roofs after it's descent from the clouds as raindrops. That sound came in through the open windows and balcony doors, and it fell so vertically that hardly any wet the floor. The temperature fell to a pleasant level - and the sound of the rushing rain blocked the tinnitus' hiss.
Peace for a short while, and it is good to wake up here today.
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