5pm and ... on? Listening to the trains passing nearby. Wind in the trees, some insects in the last blossoms of the fleeing summer. Picking some flowers for the windowsill. Having a beer between lilac and forsythe. Somewhere in between afternoon and evening, having mostly given up on the day and its unfinished proceedings. Following up later on that. There's always some church bell ringing, there's always some distant voices laughing and arguing, there's always a quiet sun disappearing from a sky same as quiet. (Trembling for a moment, feeling the early cold, trying to refrain from the work of thinking too much.)
Close to 5pm. A sudden disconnect, and a moment of silence watching oneself mirrored by a dusty huge display that has gone dark. Tracing ones features with somewhat tired eyes, trying to focus, to judge the person seen in this odd light. How did we perceive our parents when they were our age? (Random thoughts looking for links. Light flashing again. A mental interlude washed away in a flood of pixels.)
Weit nach 4: Zwischenzeit, Zwischenhalt. Kalte Limonade im Laubenschatten. Offene Enden unter den Fingern. Standby-Modus, alles im Fluss. Einige Wolken verschwinden hinter dem Dach, ein Kohlweißling landet in der Sonnenblume. Wieder Ameisen auf der Schulter, wieder Spinnweben über allem. Und die Blüten der Herbstastern werden dichter.