Etwas nach Feierabend verklingt der Donnerstag. Rauhe kalte Luft über den Flusswiesen. Das Hochwasser zog sich zurück, hinterließ Eiskristalle an Grashalmen und gefrorene, glatte Spiegel auf vielen Wegen. Gerade noch früh genug, die Krähen stromabwärts ziehen zu sehen, hinein in den dunstigen Sonnenuntergang, den weiten, hohen Himmel, der aus der vollen Fantasie seiner Farben schöpft. Wenige Minuten weiter, wenige Minuten später ist es schon wieder finster, noch mehr in anderen Höfen voranschreitenden Januars, auf die schmucklose Plattenfassaden schauen. Helle Treppenaufgänge, dösende Balkons, junge Stimmen auf einer Bank. Fremde Worte liegen in der Luft, und der Duft nach verschiedenem Rauch. Für nur kurz in ummauerter, geschützter Stille, hinter der die Unruhe dieser Tage und der Abendverkehr branden.
6pm and on. Challenging ones own winter clothes - or at least clothing habits. Good thing of frost is its tendency to drive people off streets and squares, especially today. Spotting first stars while the helicopter moves on and takes most of the noise with it. Waiting, watching, not thinking and enjoying every split second.
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.)