the pied piper

sometimes you don't need to look at your watch. sometimes things just always happen that remind you when you are. like the 5 o'clock chime for children to go home. the 11am kerosene van doing it's round in winter with its cute, heidi-esque, falling snow, kids choir anthem.

at eleven o'clock every sunday, without fail, the ramen man comes by our neighbourhood and the haunting tune of his traditional pipe music echoes around the streets like the pied piper himself. there's a security in always hearing him and there's also a feeling that time passes by so quickly. another week has ended, another has begun. on countless occaisions I've wanted to go and see him but I'm glad I haven't broken my image of him. his invisiblity and the secrecy of it all fuels the imagination. sometimes I think that if I look out the window all the local kids will be following him. or at least the local vermin.

in any case, when the tune fades into the distance and the stillness of the sunday night resumes, I know it's time for bed.