Eventually, the music still made it back to current thoughts, did weave itself into the structure of the evening, become a part of another layer of memory on top of others. Watching sounds tied to ever-changing pictures, sometimes with a slightly difficult feeling of what falls hiding beneath more and more. (Neighbours are still resting on the windowsill, thinly dressed as this night doesn't seem to intend to cool down in any way. Someone's opening another bottle of wine, candles behind another balcony door and it's middle of the week and maybe that's reason enough. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.)