Hours later again, gazing into wild clouds. Not sure whether there's a storm taking shape or just a dense dream of another day to cease. The pub is closed, people are resorting to drinking near the crossroads, arguing with each other and the electric scooters and lighting a cigarette, then and now. Late bus, a cab entering the street in slow-motion, a bunch of people in dark clothes hurrying their luggage in and within a wink of an eye they're off and outbound. Browsing old pictures. A random sigh. And a lot of different textures of silence. Have a soft night everyone wherever you are.
Relogin, later again. The calming sensation of being surrounded by the own neighbourhood again, of feeling the warmth from its old stones, breathing its scent, perceiving its light behind still-stained windows. Late bus, almost empty. Two electric scooters behind the stop, green lights flashing and it's not possible to break into their conversation. A new neighbour on the balcony, short pants, heavy tattoos and a bottle of thin beer which seems an odd contrast to the rest of his appearance. Staring into distance, mind chasing clouds and stars and, as ever, waiting for some dreams to sink into. Have a soft evening wherever you are.
Und dann doch nochmal Kontakt mit der Außenwelt. Ein Tag ohne Bilder, weil man nicht für Fotos innehalten mag und der eigene Speicher nicht aufnahmebereit ist. Supermarkt des geringsten Misstrauens, die Kälte der Flure, beiläufige Begegnungen, aber niemand hat Gedanken oder Gespräche und so gibt man sein Geld ab, packt die Taschen und sinkt wieder in den Beginn des Abends. Wie in ein dichtes Daunenbett mitten im Sommer.
Different evening, wrestling different tasks, pushing forth a backlog of things asking for attention, more or less pressing. Down on the streets, a trailer is being unloaded. Suitcases, backpacks, a box of toys. Conversations next to the main door. Returning, always a bit calmer and more quiet than starting out on an adventure yet to be seen. (A small candle and an incense, the proximity of kind, featherweight ghosts, and a thinking in chords even lacking inspiration to play any of them. Be well on your way into your night everyone, wherever you are.)
The evening, earlier late hours and an attempt to counter some common issues. Making room for the unplanned, the unproductive, time without the need of an explicit purpose. Still, a task surprisingly hard to handle. Twilight in between the houses. People meeting in the pub, strong bass lines and some voices pushing out of the open door and floating through damp air before dissolving in echoes and darkness. A TV set flooding rooms across the street with artificial images. Silhouettes of people, motionless, quiet chairs. Seasonless mood, grateful for the rain but missing the warm nights. Have a soft evening everyone wherever you are.