It is Sunday I'm looking out of the window the road is grey as the sky, so many empty houses, no longer do I hear voices a car stopping female laughter and the slamming of a car door. It is said ennui is when the brain is resting, and the Sunday is longer than other days. I know of a man who built his house on an ancient grave- stones it was strange seeing those names on the wall, mind he didn't live in the house but in the barn with a mule, two a cow a dog and several cats. It was impossible to sleep in the house sighs, knocking sounds and someone saying “ get me out of here it was all a mistake.” I wonder if the man ever got to sell his house. From history, I know of a Viking chieftain got so bored on the day of rest thinking of *** took out his knife and nailed his left hand to the dinner table, one can say his brain was over relaxed, pulled out the knife and he denounced this new faith called Christianity and went back believing in Thor and Odin and not to forget Valhalla, a place free of monotony.