10pm and on, a little more. So many words so many pictures and so much sleep hiding behind every other thought. Waiting for the stars, hoping for the night, trying to keep some of the grey of these days out of sight for a few more hours. (Alarm clock set. Kitchen cleaned. Little things to do to nod a cautious Hello to a near future self.)
10pm, the night to follow a bright day. Small lanterns on terraces, blinking in blue and green. With the late hours, elephants dare to step out of their corners, and the words unwritten between the lines become more obvious. A light wind on the roofs, a light rain so cold it could almost pass for snow. So, sinking a few more dense thoughts in heavy red wine. Giving up on comprehension. Letting sleep have its way.
Und Nacht. Die Geister haben vorerst Ruhe gefunden, in den Höfen knistert nur noch der Rest alten Holzes in der Feuerschale, Flaschen werden in Kästen geworfen und klappern gläsern. Vorn an der Straße spielt noch leise Musik, aber das Raunen und Kichern ringsum ist dünner, schwächer geworden. Einige letzte unruhige Schatten spuken durch die Büsche und Bäume, eine Katze faucht erschrocken, dann sinkt der Häuserblock in das merkwürdige Schweigen eines Abends mitten in der Woche, an dem sich zögernd, aber bestimmt Klarheit über den nächsten Morgen ausbreitet. (Wohin verziehen sich die eigenen Schatten, wenn es kein Licht gibt, das ihrer bedarf?)
10pm again, stalled. Listening to the sound of real and imaginary rain drumming the roof. Still keeping windows open, trying to get along with the mismatch between expected and actual temperature outside while the quarter is reconsidering sleep. Breathing all the late air, which again feels more earth and less city today. (A weird kind of experience while being knee-deep into wrestling arcane devices connected to a digital reality. Ambiguities beyond twilight.)
10pm. Lights out. No rain no stars few lights between here and the silhouettes of trees on the distant horizon. Trying to get hold of some air bearing the smell of the forest and the park, yet all this city night has in it is the scent of sleepy buildings and corroding railroads. Making dreams of what's at hand nevertheless, maybe it's as good as it gets.