fall
Here comes the golden hour of sunset onto the forehead over the tree and through the clouds. A Autumn of colour. Here begin the visual codings of change.
Sitting on a chair, waiting to get up and take a shit, dringend for change, dringend for something to just give up the ghost and undergo replacement to start again.
These Autumn days in Berlin are halbe halbe. If they begin schoen they end in cloud, perhaps gewitter, and the reverse holds. The wind picks up, scatters and blows the afternoon light about. Still one must hold the head high and carry on through the disturbance at the heron house. There is coffee to be brewed, butter biscuits and sweet sponge.