For the first time in three weeks, it spattered gently through the morning, but by afternoon, the sky is dry although still grey.  The trees–perhaps as stressed by the roadwork as eager for autumn–are showing withered yellow leaves.  Time marches as it always has and always shall.

The university students on this side of the Atlantic, the ones in my neighbourhood, were up until all hours nursing their proud beers. On the other side, my own uni student didn’t arrive until early afternoon, but presumably he’s well into a welcome home pub crawl by now.  Time keeps itself going in different places.


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