Past 10pm, once again. Taken like a waypoint, like a guard on its route through the quiet dark. Also: Stumbled across an old notebook in a drawer. The kind of finding something known to be there yet not permanently visible. Wiped its surface clean. Pondered to look inside. Deciding against it, more by gut than thoughts. Staying clear of empty pages, missing pages, cryptic liner notes. Avoiding embarrassing contacts with old versions of oneself and the urge to rewalk routes and compare. Staring out again instead, as if stars could be made to show up by sheer mental force. Still trying. Have a soft night wherever you are.