saturday - street light price

A few hours before dawn, neurosurgeon Henry peronee woke up to find himself already in motion, pushing the lid back from a sitting position, and then stood up.
He doesn't know exactly when he realized it or whether it was relevant.
He had never done such a thing before, but he did not panic, not even a hint of surprise, because the movement was easy, the limbs were pleasant, and the back and legs felt unusually strong.
He stood there, lying naked by the bed-he was always sleeping naked-feeling his height, realizing his wife's patient breathing, and the cold bedroom air on his skin.
This is also a feeling of pleasure.
He showed 30 or 40 on his bedside table.
He did not know what he was doing in bed: there was no need for him to relax himself and not be disturbed by the dream of the day before or something, even the status quo of the world.
It is as if, standing in the darkness, he has been fully formed from scratch and realized without hindrance.
Despite an hour or his recent work, he was not tired and his conscience was not troubled by any recent case.
In fact, he was alert and empty.
Head and rejoice inexplicably.
Without making any decision, without any motivation, he began to move towards the nearest one of the three bedroom windows, and his tread experienced such ease and lightness, he immediately suspected that he was dreaming or sleepwalking.
If so, he will be disappointed.
He is not interested in dreams.
This should be true, and this is a richer possibility.
He is entirely himself, and he is sure of this, knowing that sleep is behind him: knowing the difference between sleep and waking, knowing the boundaries, is the essence of reason.
The bedroom is big and tidy.
When he glided over it with almost hilarious facilities, the prospect of ending the experience made him briefly sad, and then the idea disappeared.
He was next to the central window, carefully pulling the tall folding wood blinds back so as not to wake rosellind.
He is selfish and considerate at this point.
He doesn't want to be asked what he is doing-what answer can he give and why give up the moment in trying?
He opened the second shutter and let it enter the window element and quietly opened the window fan.
It's a lot taller than him, but it's easy to slide up and hang up with hidden lead weights.
His skin tightened as the air poured into his surroundings in February, but he was not bothered by the cold.
From the second floor, he faces the night, the city is in the cold white light, the Skeleton Tree on the square, below 30 feet, and the black arrow railing is like a long line of Spears.
There was a frost twice and the air was fresh.
The glare of the street lamp did not completely cover all the stars.
Above the Regency facade on the other side of the square, the remains of the constellation in the southern sky are hung.
That particular facade was a reconstruction, a replica-the wartime fitzervia was hit a bit from the German Air Force-right behind the Post Office building, municipal during the day and evening
This is a brave memorial to a more optimistic day.
Now, what are these days?
He feels confused and fearful, and when he takes time out of his weekly work to think about it, he mostly thinks about it.
But he can't feel it now.
He leans forward, pressing his weight on the palm of his hand, leaning against the windowsill, and rejoicing in the emptiness and clarity of the scene.
His vision-always good-seems to have become sharp.
He saw that the paving stones on the pedestrian square sparkled, and the pigeon's feces hardened in the distance, cold into almost beautiful things, like a mass of snow.
He likes the symmetry of the black actor.
The iron columns and their darker shadows, as well as the lattice of the cobblestone ditch.
The basket of garbage shows that it is rich, not dirty;
The vacant benches around the circular garden seem to have a cordial expectation for the lunch hour crowd they have had a pleasant daily traffic, the solemn, studious boy from the Indian hostel, the quiet rapture or the couple in crisis, the drug dealer at dusk, her crazy, memorable phone call ruined the old lady. Go away!
She would shout for hours at a time and scream harshly, sounding like a swamp bird or a creature in the zoo.
Henry stood here, like a marble statue, immune to the cold, staring at Charlotte Street, staring at a pile of foreseen facades, scaffolding, and sloping roofs, he sees the city as a brilliant invention, a biological masterpiece-the achievements of millions of people around centuries of accumulation and layering, as around coral reefs, sleeping, working, entertaining themselves, it is harmonious most of the time and almost everyone wants it to work.
The corner of their own, a consistent victory;
The perfect square set by Robert Adam surrounded a perfect garden circle-18 years old
The Dream of the century is bathed and embraced by modern times, bathed and embraced by street lamps from above and below
Optical Cable and cool fresh water flow in the pipeline, the sewage disappeared in the moment of forgetting.
He is a habitual observer of his emotions, and he is curious about the constant thrill of distortion.
Perhaps at the molecular level, he had a chemical accident while he was sleeping-like a dish of spilled drinks that prompted dopamine --
Initiate a friendly cascade of intra-cellular events like receptors;
Or the prospect of Saturday, or the contradictory result of extreme fatigue.
Indeed, he ended the week in an unusual state of consumption.
He returned to his home in an empty house, lying in the bathroom, holding a book, content to not talk to anyone.
It was his culture, and Daisy, the daughter of too much culture, sent a Darwin biography, which in turn had something to do with the Conrad novel she wanted him to read, which he had not yet begun sailing, no matter how bad it is morally, he has no interest.
For several years she has been talking about what she sees as his amazing ignorance, directing his literary education, and scolding him for his poor taste and insensitivity.
From school to medical school to the hard days of junior doctors, she has her own opinions. Then, the complete absorption of neurosurgery training is combined with a loyal fatherhood-he has barely touched a non for 15 years
Medical books.
On the other hand, he believes that he has seen enough death, fear, courage and suffering to provide six documents.
Nevertheless, he obeyed her reading lists-which were the means by which he kept in touch as she grew from her family to unknown women in the suburbs of Paris;
Tonight, she will be home for the first time in six months-another reason for the excitement.