10pm and on. Shaking off, brushing off the day. Watching the cat in stand-by on the couch, observing worlds (this one and maybe a multitude of unseen others) with poorly hidden lack of interest. Windows across the street are quiet again now, seems people either opted for sleep already - or exactly the opposite on that evening. Whatever individual ways of filling the dark hours one might be able to imagine. (Have a good night everyone, wherever you are!)
Closing in on 10pm. Different skies, different clouds, and all the phenomenons found between. There's still a certain brightness in everything, as if the city tries to preserve some late dusk to keep itself from falling asleep all too soon. Cars passing. Dogs barking. A neighbour returning home from work on an e-scooter, one of the few recent sightings of these in actual operation. Students across the street fixing electric devices on a messy kitchen table. Things to do, in just the right place. (Have a calm night wherever you are.)
Closing in on 11pm. Lights already turned down, windows still open wide, hoping for a breeze to cool down the night prior to any dreams. Hard to find sleep when all attention is trying to focus on which of the many conversations out there belongs to which house, which terrace, which balcony. Shadowplay on dark walls. "All that you feel is tranquility." (Have a pleasant night everyone, wherever you are.)
10pm and on. Distant fireworks, thunder and some light, dim, vague, a flickering like shooting stars. Heavy rain in large leaves, a permanent soothing noise. And once ears and mind got used to both, in between there's just the silence of this velvet darkness. Fragments of perception, close to dreams. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.
(10pm and not that much further. Still clinging to ideas of a cooler night, even though sure this will stay but a desire. Somewhere, someone is practising on an old guitar and it seems a lengthy and challenging process, starting with difficult tunes while missing some essential basics. Watching the lights go dim again. Closing eyes for a moment, just to tell whether the evenings scent matches the personal perception of time of year. Seems reasonably close. Have a peaceful night everyone, no matter where you are.)
Way beyond 10pm. A wave of traffic washing through the neighbourhood. Seems a handover from those slowly heading for sleep to those who just set course out into the night. (Laughter echoing between facades. Deep hum of a heavy motorcycle. The silence of the clouds and the moon.)
(Crossed that 10pm line again. Heavy eyelids, weights on the mind, that sensation of having dedicated all available energy to focus on the flow of the day and now gradually running out of both. It's these hours for books to derail into alternate stories, the passages of texts between the thinly printed lines. But most of these seem fragile and won't be visible anymore the very next morning.)
10pm and on again, already. Challenging oneself by attempting to keep a textual flow in messages, ending paragraphs in a way that matches how they started. Trivial tasks turn somewhat difficult reaching a certain level of sleepiness. Maybe there's a hint to take from that. (Or maybe not, who knows. Watching the sky instead to refocus. Tales and stories of distant stars.)