Later again. Still, practising the art of disconnection, for the evening. And still struggling. Whirling thoughts, around many different fixed centers, somehow trying to stay clear of all of them to not be pulled away and taken in. The houses across the street are dark again, a few candles just behind a few windows and tip of a cigarette on a balcony, distant scent of its smoke but maybe just an imagination below starless clouds. Have a soft night wherever you are.