Innehalten, Puls setzen lassen, Atem holen entlang imaginärer Wegesränder, wenn man eigentlich seit dem Morgen kaum Strecke zurückgelegt hat, aber sich wie nach einem Marathon fühlt. Unten bellt ein Dackel in Richtung der Postbotin, die solche Unverschämtheit geflissentlich ignoriert. Die Studenten gegenüber lüften ihre Zimmer, gießen Pflanzen, verschwinden wieder hinter Bildschirmen und Bücherstapeln. Neue Schatten, klebrige Wärme überall dort, wo die Sonne erkennbar wird. Schon wieder weit im Nachmittag.
Much later, tearing down connections again for now. Imagining bad metaphors of data dripping out of lines cut, ending up disappearing into nowhere. Some things are more weird than others. (Then, spotting Moon in the corner of the window, closing eyes for a second, feeling Her pale light on lids skin soul. Not a dream yet, not a rational thought anymore either. Be safe in your night everyone wherever you are.)
In between and the sane flow of thoughts ebbed quite a while ago. Noisy communications next door and the rooms below. Unsure about the topics, but it seems the afternoon's scratching deep into everyones protective surfaces. Things to be learnt along the path, things one doesn't really yearn to know.
Andernorts, überhitzt. Das bunte Viertel zerschnitten entlang von Schattenwürfen. Kontrastprogramm. Atem klebt in der Lunge, das Shirt auf der Haut. Ein Tag so dicht, man könnte darin schwimmen.
An evening, again, of feeling that gap between mental time and measured hour. Clouds and sun and clouds came and went, indecisive and ephemeral, leaving damp, warm air, hot stones and the mood of these nights in the midst of the year one tends only to remember but rarely to consciously live through. A bunch of teenagers sitting on the sidewalk, almost motionless, maybe in conversations or just in a shared moment of silence. Wondering, for a split second, how this age felt, cigarettes and cheap wine included. And not putting very much trust in ones own memories right now, in images seen while looking back and things how they actually happened. (A plane descending, a couple of swallows circling high above. Golden leaves, an inbound phone call elsewhere, early dusk just before the streetlights wake. Maybe sometimes abstraction just gets into ones own way, on whichever level that is to happen. Have a calm evening wherever you are.)
📷 lost-in-moments