Finally. Returned home. Physically powered down, sat down, eyes closed and watching inner movies play on. The flow of emotions with more or less inconvenient soundtracks. And the ever-present feeling of dissociation with the protagonist moving through a world of its own. Where are we under this growing moon? (The city carries on regardless. Piano late the day. And a sip from an old glass. Rituals. Have a quiet night wherever you are.)
11pm, fast moving, slowing down just a considerable effort again. Neighbourhood outside, behind the walls, below the floor. A bunch of conversations and some arguments floating in between poor music. Evening news broadcast and a phone call interrupting routines. Feeling dizzy, missing Moon and her light now. Everything else is just dreams again. Have a pleasant night wherever you are.
10pm and on. The sleepiness of body and soul. Processing loop suspended for a moment, inputs collected yet unaddressed. Just noticing, not responding that much anymore. Sober and dizzy, watching invisible clouds veil any star that would be willing to dare and take its way onto these skies. Listening to the collective breath of those out there too tired to wake yet unwilling to already sleep, to let go of now. A shapeless songline. Have a quiet night wherever you are.
Finally, wrapping up the hours gone since sunrise. No stars, still leafless trees of a vast ash, and a sleeping pond surrounded by bushes and meadows. Standing at the backdoor again, for a brief moment as always when returning here, listening into the darkness and taking a small yet conscious step out of all ongoing conversations. The echoes of the day, the silence of Now. Have a peaceful sleep wherever you are.
Pastelldämmerung, rauhe Decke, Couchmüdigkeit. Unten übt man Flöte im Kinderzimmer, auch hier scheint der zurückgelegte Weg merklich kürzer als der, den es noch zu beschreiten gilt. Und anders als die Melodiefragmente zwischenzeitlich nahelegen, ist Mond noch nicht aufgegangen. Halbbewusste Gedanken. Spätwinterkälte.