10pm and a bit further. Out of the snow and the forests, off the fast lanes again. Seeing, hearing, feeling the familiar neighbourhood just a stretched arm away. Rust grey skies spanning dark grey roofs, a taxi driver parking on the street, engine running, but no one seems to care so far. Browsing messages, randomly issuing responses. A somewhat tired mind on autopilot, trying to add whatever is still possible to the pile of unpolished thoughts. Resting as a task on no list so far. The deficiencies of self-organization, unveiled. Have a soft night wherever you are.