10pm and on. Stepping out of tune for a moment. Listening to the rain on flat roofs, watching the streetlights flicker from here to the hills where the village ends and narrow paths dissappear in the darkness between the trees. Unsure whether anyone else is still awake. Unsure what to dream, out here.
Circling 10pm again. Eventually, it's all about returning home, leaving bulkier luggage behind those doors supposed to hide away all that belongs to the bright hours, wrapping up some half-baked thoughts and notions. Cold showers, to get rid of all that dust imaginary and real. Some systems disconnect, some hints end up in a fragmented and clueless mood, some constellation of data don't feel like revealing its meaning anytime soon. (Consulting the model for explanations far beyond its boundaries once more. Trying to align personal and global history for a moment. Quickly giving up on both.)
Closing in on 10pm. Yet again. Hands still to the wrists in loose ends. Wondering whether these are todays or actually yesterdays loose ends and the mind managed to just emulate a whole twenty-four hours. Then again, neighours across still seem to move in, the night feels colder already with skies more open, and the 'hood gets louder as week moves on. (Opening and closing windows in five minutes intervals. Somewhat tired. Somehow looking for sleep. And in an odd way being enticed by the idea to have breakfast.)
(Dann muss doch noch kalte Nachtluft in die Räume, und sei es, dem matten späten Gefühl zwischen den Dämmerungen etwas frostige Klarheit entgegenzuhalten. Musik von irgendwoher, ein zurückhaltender Dialog unklaren Ursprungs; nicht ausgeschlossen, dass er nicht einmal in der Realität außerhalb der Gedanken stattfindet. Bunte Fäden, die die Stunden durchzogen haben, verlieren sich im Ungewissen, und die wortlosen Lücken im Beschriebenen und Gedachten werden immer größer, wenn die Konzentration verfliegt und der Geist in Schläfrigkeit versinkt. Katze schläft auf dem Sofa, Nachbar schließt die Wohnungstür ab. Der Abend versiegt.)
9pm and on. Still. Feeling the first late cold day in bones and soul. Sorting thoughts, words and topics, today, tomorrow, and a distant yesterday washed into reality by old TV news. The more things change, the more they stay same as insane. Windows closed, neighbourhood feels further away than in mild summer evenings. Not sure whether just a temporary impression or something to stay this way for the weeks to come.