Spät am Abend: Extrarunden. Liegengebliebenes, Unfertiges. Neue Systeme, alte Herausforderungen. Und andersherum. Längst herrscht wieder Stille in der gewohnten Nachbarschaft. Man übt Klarinette hinter den Höfen, irgendwo klappern kurz Teller, bevor eine ruppige Stimme hörbar wird und sich Fenster schließen. Ein Bus fährt aus der Haltestelle, lässt eine Gruppe junger Menschen mit riesigen Rucksäcken zurück, die eine Weile ratlos auf Straße, Kreuzung und ihre blass scheinenden Displays starren und dann stadtwärts außer Sichtweite verschwinden. Klare Weite über den Dächern, einzelne Sterne im endlosen Schwarz. Und es wird spürbar kalt. (Have a calm night wherever you are.)
9pm. Still halfway between things, just in a different way. Eager to sort out at least some aspects the hours left behind, at the same time searching for focus and inspiration, wondering whether the both of them growing thin is more due to the still-present heat or an effect of gradually getting older. Or maybe both. Not too pleased with oneself, as a continuing state of consciousness.
Closing in on 11pm. Letting todays music fade, closing these open files. Mentally collecting half-written sheets, careful to not wipe the ideas that still feel like needing to dry before being somewhat permanent. A day of juggling many different interwoven and partially conflicting tasks, a day of feeling ones own line of separation from the rest of the world in an intense heat, a day of deviating too deep into weird metaphors. Unsure whether or not to be curious which dreams to arise from that. (Have a night of soft colours everyone, no matter where you are...)
Closing in on 10pm. Inventory of unmaintained assets. Striving to understand certain derailings of things that used to work well just weeks ago. A change in behaviour without a change in instructions always causes an uncanny feel. (Trying to consult the machine, but facts don't make sense, or the algorithm is tired. Both options seem valid.)
9pm and still further. Balancing between what needs to be, what should be, and what's possible trying to achieve both and still have room in that night for something that may be instead of having to be. One machine's singing, the others just keep quiet as if knowing they'd better stay out of the way. Stories of bits and pieces as the page of this day rapidly fills.