Later the day, in between moments and hours and stars and the invisible void. Suddenly noticing ones own hand drawing loops, lines, patterns on a sheet of paper, lost in thoughts apparently and unsure what to make of these. Still slightly too fast to perceive the world outside as more than just a blurred stream of colours. Still slightly too fast to hear ones own more quiet voices through the howling noise of the flow. Not yet night, not yet night. Sleep well everyone wherever you are.