10pm and on. The late hours to follow a slow afternoon. Always sundays, like looking ahead briefly, eyeing what lies behind the next dusk and dawn. Knowing the specialties of the hours in between. The weird paths of these dreams to start randomly and be gone again in early morning. Everything washed into consciousness once more before a new week returns to its familiar rhythm. Somewhere along the backyard, some TV station is spreading news again. A few stars blinking above silent roofs. Air's a bit cooler, has a soft scent of fir trees, wet meadows and a river. Breathing, inhaling. And focussing on senses and perception for a moment, trying not to process, to evaluate. A challenging exercise, again and again. Sleep well and calm dreams everyone, no matter where you are.
Way beyond 22pm. Accepting to have slowed down a while ago. Emptied the glass again, taking quality time standing in the backdoor frame, briefly staring out into the dark. Grasping a lot of different sounds at once and failing to identify where they belong and what is causing them, in most cases. Except for the constant, wake flow of the creek on its way to the river, maybe. Reflecting on another week passing by, and the ages that seem to have found place in it. Processing some, ignoring others for now. And trying to set a stage for short-term dreams worth being dreamt, heading for the morning again. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.
Much later again. Resuming the hours and wondering whether things of relevance went unaddressed. Probably so, very much. But at the same time pondering boundaries, capabilities and honouring the relation of both. In between heat and cold, unsatisfied with both yet unable to keep a stable state in between. Windows closed again. All kinds of. Trying to grant attention to the many random stories unfolding on sidewalk and crossroad below, in the pale neon blue of the pub and the headlights of a parked car. Yet slowly turning incoherent, trains of thought taking odd turns, world slowly slipping into its hiding again. Yawning. Covering eyes with hands, for a second, to feel beyond the visible. Entering a halting state. Have a soothing night wherever you are.
📷 random-stories
Some steps further. The sound of distant trains and slow jazz nearby. A car parking, doors opened, closed. Dishes placed on a cupboard, below. And always a ringing phone, somewhere. Noticing quite late the absence of stars tonite, and the cold that made it into the rooms again. Noticing ones fingers drawing patterns in the dust on the windowsill, unconsciously, but hesitating to make sense of what's to be seen there. It's late enough, vague enough already, anyway. Have a calm night wherever you are.
📷 lost-in-moments
Wieder deutlich später. Erneut verhallt der Tag, nimmt das Wochenende mit sich und lässt den Ausblick auf unruhigen Schlaf und wackelige Träume zurück. Stoßlüften, den Winter empfangen, der wieder spürbarer wird, nachdem die Wärme der sonnigen Stunden in das Himmelsschwarz geflohen ist. Gegenüber flackern noch die Kerzen auf dem Küchentisch, werfen Schatten auf vage erkennbare Gesichter. Eine Etage weiter oben wird gekocht und am Fenster geraucht, verschiedene Dämpfe treiben die Straße entlang und verlieren sich irgendwo hinter der Kreuzung. Eigenes Licht verbergen. Eigene Stimme für jetzt zurücknehmen. Die Gedanken kurz sich selbst überlassen, bevor die Zeit weiterschreitet. Have a pleasant night wherever you are.