Finally, once more, the evening and its glitches. Little remains of the day, like sawdust that fell from the hours going through, coating desk and books and windowpane and mind and blown into unknown distances by an invisible wind. In between different moods, few of them really kind, and trying to settle and wait for the dreams to catch up, lacking any real better ideas. Stories of rationales and strategies and ones own fallability. And too early for the soothing light of stars. Have a calm night wherever you are.