Early in the morning underneath low-hanging clouds, wind pressing through canals and onto streets to goad the waking people to their jobs, I idled in black coffee steam for some insinuation that the sun would rise, some subtle hint beyond the hooded sky that warmer breezes might be waiting.

Condensation on the streets made glass-panes of the cobblestones and filled the tiny pores of buildings’ brick and morter faces. Every now and then a tear would drip across my window from an awning candy-striped and skiened with years of moss. Whispers of the coffee rising up like threads of smoke and fading into constellations formed by pearls of mist. Presumptions that the spring should make a warmer day to welcome me. Expectations of a brighter morning swallowed by the fog still shedding from the water’s skin.

One more sip as morning grows dissolute and the lower clouds precipitate to rain. I notice on the water there’s an albatross who plucks his whiter feathers as he glances back to see what kind of scraps I’ll leave behind. Another tear slips past the window, whitecaps on the water washing feathers in the current, an albatross alight amid the falling drops of rain and rising hungry through the silent grey.

#amsterdam #netherlands

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