It is nine minutes past nine in the morning and the sun is shining in through that verandah door. Breakfast, there is only half a glass of coffee left. The bed is not made yet, the cat is still downstairs. Perhaps it will stay there today. It is Good Friday, another big Christian holiday.
Think back on what has been learnt from memories. It is sufficient to have learnt from, but an exact repetition will never be possible, mistakes can never be repealed and positive experiences will never be repeated. Remember that, remember that at every visit your friends are older people. Some of them wish that they had done things better, and some do not.
Similar to yesterday's experience, the cloud cover is thickening and the sunlight is diffusing, perhaps there will be rain later. Having spent ten minutes thinking and writing, more time has elapsed and the sunlight brightened, then it spread and dimmed again. The heater, turned on in the morning before going downstairs, is a delight on this March morning, the twenty-ninth of the month. Some comfort is always worthwhile, even for one of austere upbringing in this environment of hedonistic love of luxury in southern Bavaria. The simple and the bare are replaced by the barely simple.
Up on the bluff over the town there is a viewpoint, visible through the verandah window. There are the trunks of bare trees all along the visible crest of this bluff, with light pouring through them. A runner runs along the path there, a profile, a tiny tree that has taken up his roots and run for it.
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