10pm and still a bit on. Returned. The surprising change of the self once ones own door has been closed again. And locked. And checked to be closed and locked for the appropriate number of times. (One more sip of water. A brief, very cautious look into the eyes of ones own mirror self. Pondering partially technical terms for a moment, still, while the echoes of the evening fade: Hibernation. Shutdown. Sleep state. And things in between. Have a decent night wherever you are.)
10pm and on. Things to deal with later that day: Digital services asking whether one's actually a human being. Unsure how to respond. The model has no real idea either, but apparently most people just confirmed and went on. Others end up wondering most elementary identity and belonging again being confronted with those unsettling questions. (Closing the corresponding windows. Opening the actual one, to catch some air and a glimpse of whatever winter it is right now. Flickering pub lights, music reduced to bass lines, and the ever-present distant hum that feels soothing much more than intimidating at this hour. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.)
Switching networks and devices, finally. Realizing that impression of individual speed varies with the hours and seems to be off all too often. Moving in moving out, across the street, just below the roof. A dude in workers suit is getting rid of wallpapers and old paint, until his shift seems over and these rooms are dark all of a sudden. Lacking this light, darkness amidst the houses becomes much more tangible. Taking some notes, striking out others, feeling like ending where one started moments ago, random activities to stay in motion much more than anything to get anywhere. And still no real mood for dreams, doubting all of them. Have a soothing night wherever you are.
📷 lost-in-moments
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.
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