The Sun fell down on us that morning

Feeding every living being with its radiant caress

My dog, his tail wagging

Like a metronome set to a Milonga beat

From the open windows of the neighbourhood

The scent of coffee and cinnamon

And idle conversation

The occasional baby cry and little dog yapping

A perfect Swedish Sunday morning for some

But I

I had nothing but death on my mind

The morning grew hot

Too hot for a dog and his mad English man

Back to the double glazed cave

I had something unpleasant to attend to