Single ding, a quarter past eight, the bells in the town sound o,nce for the first quarter of the hour. The pigeons continue their cooing, everyone has become used to that heavy metal clamour. Even though church bells probably have little to do with the music genre, they consist of nothing but bronze. And that is very heavy metal.
The neighbours hens are cackling as well, perhaps they have produced a fresh breakfast egg. And to break the sound further there is the distant sound of the Martins horn of an ambulance on its mission.
Friday has now gone quiet here in town. Most of the people who work have already left the town and the remainder are either in their jobs or sleeping. It is that kind of town.
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