the clouds, which look like the ones a child might draw, are scudding across the sky, from the east to the west - so it must be windy up there
this morning the river is flowing, from the east to the west
the sun breaks out momentarily and everything I can see is either suddenly alight with the brightness or hidden in deep shadows
such a contrast
leaves, like butterflies on a kamikaze mission, flitter around in the air from the trees down to the ground - some land in the river and are washed seawards
there is a man, tall thin and stooped, who I watch everyday and sometimes walk past; his job is to empty the bins on the piazza; it is a daily ritual that I find painful to watch:
he walks towards a bin, then strides purposefully away; he turns and marches back to the bin and takes a key from the pocket of his coat (which he wears rain or shine, heat or no) and unlocks the top of the bin, which he then flings open; he walks away; he returns and takes out the black bin liner; he walks away with the bin liner and then empties it into a big black bag which he has put down somewhere else; he returns to the bin and wraps the liner around the lid; he walks away; he returns with a bucket of what I assume is disinfectant - he splashes the inside of the bin with handfuls of the liquid and then takes a step or two back and splashes the liquid from a distance at the lid of the bin; he walks towards the bin and wraps a cloth around the lid of the bin; he walks away and then returns; he puts the liner back in the bin and squeezes some liquid from the cloth into the replaced liner; he walks away again and then returns and closes the lid, which he then wipes with the cloth; he hurls more liquid at the bin, as if with a vengance; he walks away back to his bucket and the black bag and strides off purposefully again to the next bin on his rounds, where the ritual is repeated
when I walk past him as I come and go from the building he is always head down, muttering as he goes about his cleansing chores. . .
I hope his habits bring him comfort
I hope your day has moments of comfort
have a good one
how wrong I was about the wind! it is coming from the east, as I could tell by the clouds, and on the west facing balcony I must have been protected from it: as soon as I stepped foot outside the building, I was almost blown away - shame I didn't have my umbrella really. . .
I have to get my phone camera computer cable thingy sorted - I've just taken a photo using my mobile of the guy who is currently abseiling down the building, cleaning the glass. . . the colours are great: his safety helmet and straps are the same colour as the leaves on the trees eight floors down. . .