1 May 2009, around 0.17.
When the sun is shining in the morning it is warm enough to drink coffee on the balcony with a book, perhaps something on regional politics, and listen to the swifts cross the sky. I had thought at first they were starlings, because the starlings paused on the wire linking the apartment building to the police station, but after watching them for a few mornings, it seems they are swifts after all. At nine o’clock one can see the last of the schoolchildren running desperately to fifth school, anxious glances darting back to the loitering policemen, or perhaps even further behind to the parent darkening a doorway or window. One can follow the progress of the sun by watching the bedding – mattresses and pillows – move from balcony to balcony, plumply perched on railings, soaking in the sun, from east to south to west.