At a quarter to three in the afternoon a few of the planned things have been done, but most of such things have not been done at all. Shopping has been done, and more will have to be done now, for there were things forgotten.
People are arguing in the neighbourhood, the sounds of shouting and of screaming can be heard through the closed windows.
It is another day of no conversation, and it is strange to be completely alone in the middle of this small town. Solitary life in a flat would possibly be easier and cheaper.
The viewer markings on the ground glass screen of the cameras were modified to accommodate the digital sensor. Some of the ink smudged under the ruler and the result is less than perfect. This is sad, but it is going to have to be lived with. Not much can be done now, other than wiping everything off and restarting the whole marking process.
There was a note received, a friend expressed her distress at having spoken about her problems, and events from her life that occurred a long time ago. There is no way of knowing how to reply. Not at this time, not yet.
These are all incomplete thoughts in paragraphs of only two sentences. Three would be better.
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