10pm, still frantically running. Needles in haystacks, bandwidth jammed with logged events, an odd sequence of characters and numbers lacking any obvious pattern even at closer look. Communication threads left half-open, unacknowledged, unsure whether this is how it should be. A city wrapping itself in night again, neighbours smoking on the windowsill again, hardly anyone crossing below. New thoughts old music and searching for versions of oneself within. Thin lines enclosing weird dreams. Sleep well everyone wherever you are.