Air Raid Siren Morning

These mornings are soundtracked by the warning sounds of the industrial saws in the workshops below us. I look out of the kitchen window at the men in the workshops opposite, measuring pieces of wood, and drinking cups of tea. I don't know what they make - they seem to spend all their time with these long planks of wood, to be presumably made into some kind of furniture - but I can't even begin to hazard a guess really. The saw is the noisiest of their machines - though none of the workshop sounds are particularly disturbing. I watched a man this morning feed one of the planks of wood into it, though what happened to it was lost in the obscurity of the workshops and my need for a bath. The saw starts early, as I lie in the blackout darkness of my room, just past 8:00am, and it sounds like an air raid siren, cutting through the remnants of my sleep like, well, an industrial saw.