Closing in on 11pm. Concluding the day. Filing whatever insights gained in conversations. Emptying the queue of thoughts all along with ones glass. Quietly observing the individual ways the neighbourhood follows to make it through to the new dawn. Too tired oneself to consciously follow much longer. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.
Closing in on 11pm. Mind on retreat. Lights already dimmed. Rooms of the flat feel different sometimes at the very edge of days. Home is where the soul rests, and home is where the body knows to avoid raging cats, fangs, claws without needing too much attention. There are for sure things worse than that. (Have a calm night wherever you are!)
10pm and not much further. Slightly detached, slightly dissociated, trying to let these hours float while day's but a memory already and sleep still as unreal and elusive as any dream to maybe follow. Steps echoing through the narrow street but these feet seem light and on a walk not kept down too much by any invisible burden. Empty bus stop, flickering street lights, a collection of Christmas candeliers in a window over there. Shadowplay. Stories lost, stories found. And the fabric of dreams made of both. (Have a restful night wherever you are.)
Weit später: Irgendwo in der Woche, Stunden zurückgelassen, reale Notizen an imaginären Akten abgelegt, Kommunikation in ihre Bahnen zurückgehoben und dann hält der Geist einen Augenblick inne und nimmt zur Kenntnis, dass der Abend immer noch zum Montag gehört, dessen Anbeginn zwischen verschiedenen Nebeln verlorenging. Noch ein paar Lichter an Fenstern, den eigenen und den fremden. Den dunkleren Fäden im Knäuel der eigenen inneren Sphäre nachgehen, schrittweise, ihre Enden zu erspüren. Mit gemischtem Erfolg. Das Zimmer duftet nach Tannennadeln und Kräutertee. Hinter Wänden klingelt ein Telefon, alt und blechern und lang genug, um diesen Effekt sicher nicht unbemerkt vergehen zu lassen. Passantenschatten in der Straße. Blaues Licht auf dem Aspalt vor der Kneipe. Szenen der Großstadt, wartend auf ihre Geschichten. (Have a soothing night wherever you are.)
4pm almost again. The days that keep just a thin line between world still being dark and world already being dark again. (And somewhere all along that line, everything and nothing unfolds and the hours take their own course and an astonished mind watches a numb physical self navigate a familiar strange city.)