8pm, reasonably tired, running out of words. Weird scales, droning chords and sipping on a drink. Taking comfort in the colours of early dusk. Feeling the strength needed to keep all relevant realities at arms length.
11pm. Another cigarette and chatter, on the balcony below. Eyes small with sleep, the lights of the backyard turning into bizarre, blurred fireflies. Always bit of a confusing dream. Have a pleasant night everyone wherever you are.
Evenings. These colours promising summer in days of late frost. // 366skies