Viel später. Irgendwo dröhnt noch ein Motor am dunklen See. Jugendliche der Herberge feiern die Nacht und das Leben, Kinder jagen sich lachend durch und um das Haus. Etwas Licht in allem, etwas Stille zwischen den Tönen. Wenn man lang unter dem hohen Schwarz steht, zeigen sich hier ferne Konstellationen, die der Stadt ewig verborgen bleiben. Immer noch Geisterschatten und Schritte auf körnigen Pfaden, aber man hat sich an den Landstrich und seinen erhabenen, rauhen Zauber gewöhnt. Und so trinkt man auf Alles, lauscht auf die kleinen Töne, atmet kalte Nacht und hält fest, was heute noch sein kann, so lang die Kerzen reichen.
Closing in on 11am. The sun, the wind, a certain cold. A day about somehow not getting into the right swing. Too many sidetracks, too many sudden stepstones appearing out of the familiar. Cautiously digging deeper, not really sure whether things will improve what's to be found. (Wondering whether the model knows, but ultimately refraining from asking these questions as recent answers haven't been all that pleasant or helpful.)
8pm and slowing down. Ending todays journey. Feeling a wind in the trees, a moon far beyond the clouds, an unfinished evening bordering a night not yet completely here to start. Pouring some more wine, breathing the rivers air, letting the light pass on with the waves.
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.)