(Bilder aus den Wochen nach Prüfungen, nach einem Vorsommergewitter. Der elterliche Garten, die Dorfstraße, der Himmel. Und dann das Viertel, die Kreuzung, die Silhouette des Parks. Dasselbe Licht, Jahrzehnte später. Dasselbe Licht...)
9am almost, and the sun lazy in a sea of blue. The sound of a village in its usually weekend flow. Bees in the meadows. And a theater of shadows performing arcane plays. Just a spectator again.
Sufficiently later, an attempt to reduce speed in a gentle manner. That light again, but on a quiet sky spanning above the hills. Chatter and music nearby, as the weeks of summer festivities seem to have started. Focusing on the small details in between instead, trying to listen down into the realm of ants and mouses and hiding from mosquitos while slowly being surrounded by cool darkness. In between worlds once more. Pondering belonging, once more. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.
After dusk, after hours. The songs of the crows disappeared in unknown distances. Same as the wind. Quiet shadows of trees between houses and streets and the river and its meadows. Neighbours engaged in conversations on the balcony, an indifferent dog sleeping under that small table, candle flickering as if it was to prevent dark fully on its own. Striving to remember how the morning started but not getting hold of these thoughts anymore. Maybe there's goodness in this kind of forgetting, too. Have a soft night wherever you are.
Hours later and still not completely sure of the day. A wall of books, an endless sky, the sound of a bus and doors opening, closing, without getting people anywhere. Bats on erratic, random routes. A few birds. A phone ringing for way too many times. E-mail notifications, appointments set appointments missed and a long weekend fades into past. Turning the page again, but devoid of real poetry today. Have a soft night wherever you are.