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.)
(Eine der Traditionen dieses Abends, die die Jahre überstanden hat, ist das zusätzliche Gedeck auf dem Esstisch, für den Fremden, der unerwartet und bedürftig vor der Tür steht und den man nicht abweist. Und in all den Jahren stand nie die Frage im Raum: Was, wenn dieser wirklich käme, klopfen oder klingeln würde...?)
10pm. Slowed down. Watching reflections of traffic lights on wet crossroads. Ending the evening just like the morning started: In a bathroom, dimly lit. Yawning. And trying to avoid eye contact with that mirror self. (Fixed temporal join points woven into the fabric of the week. And fixed rituals revolving around them.)