Finally, transcending into standby. Trying to keep open ends sorted while making sure music won't be playing for the rest of the night. Preserving some tabs, storing some notes, letting everything else quietly disappear with the last daylight. Traffic becoming noticeable as all other sounds fall asleep. A dream, but as a hope. Have a pleasant night wherever you are.
Much later. Out of touch with daytime and the late hours and most of the flow to guide from dawn till dusk. A neighbourhood half asleep. A bus stop serving as a hideout for abandoned electric scooters and teenage souls smoking and drinking and not wanting to go home and there are stories of coming of age in all of us and most of these are oozing melancholy and imagination. Unlocking locking doors, retreating to ones own sanctuary, considering having a cigarette with the restless and wild and yet giving up on that and dimming lights, knowing morning's close again. Have a quiescing night wherever you are.
Concluding the day. Sunday afternoon mood turning evening blues. Watching the city sink into that late soup of light in between pale skies and dark houses, roads still bearing the scent of day and backyards echoing the sounds of the parties that ended earlier anticipating the new week. Agenda pruning. Drinking stale tea. A sleeping cat and some dreams at the doorstep. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.
Dorfmorgen, wieder, ganz plötzlich. Das gleichermaßen vertraute und unheimliche Erlebnis, aufzuwachen und für zu lange Momente nicht zu wissen, in welchem Teil der Realität man sich befindet. Noch kein Kontakt zu Umgebung, Licht, Wetter, aber die Wände strahlen die gewohnte Kälte ab und die ersten Schritte sind immer etwas schneller als sonst. Eisiges Wasser, kratzend auf rauher Haut, Schlaf aus den Augenwinkeln spülend. Sekunden planloser Leere im Kopf, bevor Kaffee und Samstag ihren Weg finden. Kirchenglocken, heute steht der Wind günstig. Langsam fliehen alle Nebel. Habt es mild heute!
(Much later, just barely awake. Different places different routines and feeling the touch of the outer world on the backdoor leading into garden and meadows. There are mouses in the ivy covering the floor near that old barn. There's the sound the creek, less strong today. There's distant whispering, random laughter of village teenagers, hiding in the bus stop drinking and smoking and there are the echoes of stories so old it's hard to even tell whether they have really happened. Have a calm night wherever you are.)