The clock struck seven and the bells gonged away, scaring the pigeons as they
flocked towards the bridge in the distance. The basalt road shone with a reluctant
gleam as the morning light poured onto the deserted main street. The outside seating for
the pizza restaurant had no occupant but some stray pigeons pecking away at the legs of
the chairs. The tired, five hundred year-old Treppendach houses rose once again,
although unable to abstain their heads from hanging. The curve of the road seemed
to embody a voluptuous woman posing in the light, her body encompassing the entirety
of the city.
It was the last sunrise I was to see in this city, and I wanted to make the most of it.
With eyes half open I begrudgingly left her house and rushed on my light-blue
second-hand bike to the city centre through the car-less roads until I got to the little
pavement. As the sunrise slowly and gently lifted my eyelids, I remembered the pre-class
breakfasts I had at the Italian restaurant with my guys. I remembered the
countless times I gorged on some döner boxes from the kebab shop on the corner. The
many times I met up with her to get the berry infused summer love smoothie from the
smoothie joint with the outdoor seating. The two opposing ice cream stores sandwiching
the landmark church with the gigantic clock. The night we couldn’t catch a taxi for a
couple of hours. When I rode my bicycle in the pouring rain without any lights nor a
friend to comfort me.
I took the picture, got one last look at the view as I straddled my way to the
train station with my big backpack. As I walked past the church, the bells gonged away,
and I heard a collective flapping of wings in the distance behind me. I couldn’t help but