the wind had dropped

at ground level anyway (and even eight floors up)

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. . .


Mel said...

I had no difficulties visualizing the fella in the coat as he went about his routine.
And as maddening as rituals can appear to the rest of the world, there's comfort in mine--and coming here....

<-- has her cuppa coffee, of course!

((((((( ILTV )))))))))

Welcome to Wednesday--I hope you'll find many comforts in your day.

I, like the view said...





and you pipped me to the post, was just going to put up a photo of a pavement drawing from Mary Poppin's. . .

. . .in chalk of course!

Mel said...


Trust me when I confess the two of us weren't even close to that quality.

<--likes that she pipped you. LOL

(hoping pipping is a good thing...)

Anonymous said...

What a very complicated routine. I'm trying to imagine what purpose is served by each change of arrangement of cloths and liner and lid and I give up.

Sometimes routines are a way of distancing yourself from the dullness of a repetitive task. Instead of being chained to doing the task over and over, you perfect the routine which becomes a kind of art in itself. There is comfort in that.

Mig said...

Oh bother - ticked the wrong circle - that was me!!!!

Mig said...

Oh and yes!! Please get your phone cable thingie sorted :)

I, like the view said...

mig :-D you're back! I've missed you. . . hope you had a great time. . .

hurrah!!! you're back!

I, like the view said...

(and how I love the perfection of a routine to the point where it becomes a comfort. . . that's how I view laundry and washing up, actually - but not dusting or hoovering!)