The breeze lets the door slam shut, and then there is a whistle of the wind in the cracks in the same door. The birds outside seem to be gathering nest building material again, even though it is now July.
It is the sons birthday today, nineteen years ago he was born and now he is preparing to study seriously in the university. That is the way things go now.
There is the sound of children's voices outside, they are enjoying the warm weather today. It is tenty eight degrees centigrade, the high due for next Sunday is thirty-five degrees. That will be the day of the second parade through the town, this is all part of the pageant that occupies the attentions of the locals every four years. The children are keeping to the shade today, and on Friday there will be sculptures to take pictures of.
And now is the time to look forward to the afternoon meal with the son.
Unless, of course, he forgets all about it.
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