Closing in on 4pm. Out there somehow. Trading imaginary for actual routes, circumventing annoyances, heading elsewhere again. Inner-city afternoon traffic flowing by, letting one be a part of it for some unpleasant minutes before one finally manages to trade the smaller for the bigger roads. Rear view mirror, hills ahead, the images of being in-between once more. And always keeping dear that feeling of vague melancholy tied to these moments in motion.