Teacher Conferences Joke

Travel Journal IV
01/25/1911
Sign
night. Enter a rectangle of stars come morning, everything goes into the torpor of the day it is installed in the room two by two. We climbed the stairs trying
silence, but we betray the creaking wooden stairs without consciousness of the people sleeping behind the dozens of doors that emerge from the shadows in all directions.
The only window looks like a vigilante, an alarm is not scheduled to start we sleep.
One foot touches my arm, the silent signal to initiate a return, among the remains of a headache and small eyes of the drowsiness, I smile for the fulfilled promise of the night.
The heat of the room becomes more and more present, but the morning on the street brings us a wind that ruffles a bit and makes us smile. Four lips
hesitate a new promise to be flown on the wheels of a taxi.
Maybe it's Tuesday, a new dip in the mattress to return to sleep.


[and I wish we knew how to whistle like that ...]

"In this little room,

In the big city we're so far"