It’s rare anymore for me to be up this early on a Sunday sunrise, and many of the party crowds of Saturday somehow now seem like bad fashion.

I am on my way to work and glad of it as the crowds down at the salt mines is still on strike.

The migrant workers crowd onto the street car with me on their way to the early morning shifts at the hotels. There are no factories left in the city.

The train is now leaving the city core, and the crowds are behind me. Nothing but the day ahead.