4pm and on. Kids with scooters in the streets - the old-fashioned wooden ones that seem to perfectly match the age of the facades and roads of this neighbourhood. A special kind of noise, distracting but not disturbing. Asides this: Still in between everything - tasks, moods, seasons, hours of day. Still trying to navigate vast dumps of data, restarting essential pieces for the third time in a row as things break and fall apart again and again. It's a matter of learning despite being short on time. And it always feels like an imposter lost in a library of books all written in Latin again.