Today is a day of strange things and nothing special happening. The morning has its usual difficulties getting up out of bed and functioning, the body is colder than it should be, even despite the cold.
It is evening now, the morning is a blur. The strange depressions of the past weeks are not going away, much the same as the wife is incapable of making a friendly greeting.
On the way down the stairs to check the mailbox see that the basket attached to her bicycle is perched on the piece of furniture in the hallway. Look and see that there are parts of the spring system used to hold it lying on the floor. Gather the two parts, the holder and its spring, and reassemble the whole lot on the back carrier. It takes considerable strength to do this successfully. In the end, put the basket back on the carrier. It is strange to have that urge to repair things that are broken, even when it is somebody else's business entirely.
Read the news, that is especially depressing now. It appears as if America is trying to drive the world into an armed conflict for no good reason. It is hard to understand, it is out of the reach of this person to fix.
Last night a a jam session. And before that an incomprehensible exhibition of digital prints of filtered photographs of the concentration camp in Dachau, to commemorate the closure of the smaller filial concentration camp near Landshut eighty years ago. A man played bagpipes, the dirge a bit too fast.
The pictures of the jam session remained to be edited today.
The incomprehensible Argentine sent a letter to be printed which would have served written by hand. Deliver the printout anyway.
Today is of a miserable cold and tired too.
No comments:
Post a Comment