10pm, finding rest. The different days breed a different way of feeling tired. And with the huts and shelters preparing to end their year, all the small bright spots are disappearing from the black canvas of the mountains, one by one like stars fading into void. On the other side of the lake, headlights of a larger vehicle cut through the trees along the road, drawing ghosts that haunt nervous dreams on the wild edges between civilisation and nature. Waves hitting the shore. Some rain in the trees. And not much more for what remained of the day.
Und wieder Nacht, wieder Mond, wieder die gewohnten Klänge in der Straße. Ein bellender Hund, Kronkorken fallen auf den Gehweg, dunkle Stimmen erzählen, Flaschen klirren leise aneinander. Lärm eines alten Mopeds vom Fluss her, unten weint ein müdes Kind. Kerzen löschen. Stühle zurechtrücken. Bücher ins Regal legen. Lang der Tag, ein vorsichtiger Blick nach vorn fragt, ob die Träume all die angesammelten Momente werden tragen können. Ein Zwinkern entfernt nur von der nächsten Dämmerung.
10pm. Almost off for the night. Leaving behind what's unfinished today. Loose ends will not reconnect before the morning anyway. Once again, a dim glow in that empty flat across the streets. No boxes though, seems progress is slow in there as well. City's almost asleep by now, only the subliminal, omnipresent sound of distant machinery prevails, and once one notices, it can't be unheard for the time being. At least there are stars tonight, sparkling on a cloth made of deep black. Indifferent lights in an endless void. Or spotty holes in the fabric of a black universe, letting drip in light from whichever obscure sources. (With all that vast dark emptiness too huge for a mind to grasp anyway, it's hard to tell which of both options feels more gloomy and cold. And maybe finding some rest is a better option, to keep thoughts from running completely astray.)
10pm again. A small motorcycle's racing through the street, leaving behind a screeching, loud noise that slowly fades with the wheels disappearing further in the city. Below on the sidewalk, someone has aligned a whole crowd of electric scooters, green lights like static fireflies just inches above cold concrete ground. Means of finding and taking paths, but no travellers nearby. (What remains: Yawning, stretching, clutching to the day, tired and uneasy and still somehow feeling like having passed that point where sleep's a likely option. Still worth a try, again, though.)