Much later. Ending a day that feels off the flow of weeks, a day that had its own pictures and joy and shadows and unexplained waves of melancholy. The neighbourhood sounds like late weekend, a distant train is howling outbound. Candle burning still, for a moment, window opened wide. A welcoming of the dark once more. Have a quiet night wherever you are.
5pm and on. Dizzy but in a difficult way. Breathing dense cool air, feeling rain on skin and the scent of petrichor in between the houses. A change of days of weather again, head heavy with the wild cloudy skies.
Zwischen den Supermärkten und dem Wohngebiet erkennen die Anwohner langsam, dass Feiertage ins Haus stehen. Häufiger, als einem lieb wäre, beobachtet man jenen zurückhaltenden Aktionismus, mit dem gleichzeitig Vorkehrungen getroffen und bislang Unbeteiligte nicht aufmerksam gemacht werden sollen, bevor man selbst Wagen und Toastbrot und Grillkohle verstaut hat. Die Kasse kennt das ortsansässige Bier nicht, weil die Flaschen keinen Barcode tragen; die händisch eingegebene Nummer offenbart auf dem Kassenzettel: Salat. Mit Pfand. Gewisse Ahnungen bestätigen sich. Es wird Abend.
10pm and on. Ends left open, ends laid to rest. Late commuters on their way home or elsewhere. A music evening at the pub, week's still young and yet people follow the call of lights and sounds, indifferent about the morning beyond the horizon. Sleep walking through silent streets, a shadow a dream a memory a hope. Have a calm night wherever you are.
Finally: Trying to not pay too much attention to measured time, compared to the perceived position in between days and weeks. Thin eyes a blurred world and inventing stories that suit the colours. Twigs bearing blossoms in twilight. A candle. And a moment of self-centered silence, maybe undeserved but welcome. Have a calm night wherever you are.