Mist on the canal — Cornelis wrote it down

I am writing this because the hall keeps a shorter version of mist on the canal — cornelis wrote it do than the one I lived through. If you only heard it at the table after bread, you might think nothing happened. Something did. Nothing here is a shop. Not the jars, not the apples, not the boats, not my time. Ask with your name on the day you mean it. If this helped, you do not need to thank me. Put the thing back where the next person expects it.

If you disagree, say it before Friday twenty minutes, or write mail. A thread that grows on Saturday without a note becomes a rumour, and Sander will read the rumour as bread. Same thread next month if needed. Until then: boots, paper, mail, Friday.

Someone will ask again in a week. The answer will have the same shape: read the paper, read the board, write two lines if you need a bed, and do not invent a meeting that was only rain.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule. I am not asking for a bed in this reply. I am asking the board to stay boring in the useful way. No drama intended.