Closing in on 6pm. Out there at last. Crowded city empty sidewalks and everything submitting to dense cold rain. Wind getting stronger, shaking thin hair. A red Christmas star shimmering on wet stones. Slightly worn down yet still bright
Entlang der Straßen wird aus einem kalten Vorabend ein kalter Abend, das Thema des Montags bleibt bestehen. Es fehlen Zitronen, man verläuft sich in zaghaften Kontakten mit Nachbarn, denen man dann doch keine Geduld schenkt und sich hinterher für das Beiläufige, Vorübergehende, Abweisende rügt. Auf dem Balkon der Studenten steht ein roter Weihnachtsmann Wache neben einem eng verschnürten Tannenbaum, die Fenster dahinter umschließen unwirklich gefärbte Neonstimmung. Fast leerer Bus, leere Haltestelle, der Moment atmet Rauch von Zigaretten und Kohlen. Zeit streift weiter, Fluss ist fern. Manchmal spürt man Enge umringt von den hohen Fassaden.
Heading for 11pm. Nightlights shadowplay on dark walls again. Rain calmed down, the neighbourhood cautiously steps out for a few more minutes. Briefly touching base on all relevant issues, with that late cigarette to conclude the expected order of steps. (Also: Reaching for all of todays threads again, having them synchronised, before weaving them into a fabric of dense dreams. The unexplained current state of nights.)
9pm and on. Halfway into the evening. Circling around too many things that seem worth digging into, eventually trying too much at once, ending up with a bunch more of poorly understood, poorly trained crafts. Trying to relearn the ability to focus. Until, eventually, noticing it's not the focus that has shifted but just the understanding of how one ticks, when the day finally may slow down.
10pm and on. Again. Tracking vessels east and north of here. Trying to make sense of compass, maps and triangulation. Asking the model about nautical details and terminology. (No guiding lines in empty space. The map is never the territory, much less so here.)