My eye gazes on a navy green army jacket  with the flag of my country
on the shoulder bits... Germany seems far away... Another sip from my
mug.

If I would open the wooden white painted shutters of  the window in
my room, I could see my Italian flatmate on the other side dancing to
reggae music with a white foam beart, while shaving his face in the
bathroom. There is no urban view, but a courtyard and three windows
which serve for flatmate communication.

Roof terrace:

a landscape formed of  old roofing tiles, blue-golden church domes,
cranes and more terraces...
The heat is getting more intense.
Down there on the street, two spectacled nuns hidden under light blue
dresses are passing by. I remember seeing one of them before on Plaza
de la Virgen. She was smiling kind-hearted while listening patiently
to a drunken homeless telling her the story of his life.
I close my eyes. I hear the twittering of birds and the hammer blows
of builders, who will turn another ghost house in the Carmen into a
palace.

The bell of the old cathedral is ringing.

A quarter past twelve.

The last sip from my mug before I start another day in my temporary
Spanish life...
Germany is far away...
I am not in a  hurry to go back to a world of organization and cloudy
skies.
 

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