Closing in on 4pm. Out there somehow. Trading imaginary for actual routes, circumventing annoyances, heading elsewhere again. Inner-city afternoon traffic flowing by, letting one be a part of it for some unpleasant minutes before one finally manages to trade the smaller for the bigger roads. Rear view mirror, hills ahead, the images of being in-between once more. And always keeping dear that feeling of vague melancholy tied to these moments in motion.

4pm and on. These days manage to keep these brighter moments to itself. Columns of data on screens. Some things worked, some things failed, some numbers still don't make sense. Corridor disputes, arguing patterns and responsibilities. Accounts balanced, access withdrawn. Missing superpower: Handling inner tensions in a meaningful way. Somehow, head still in clouds of its own.

10am and on. Heading out again. Some snow remained, covering some of the ever-present city grey. Sneaking through traffic, trying to get by unseen, to breathe calmer once the soft lines of forests and hills span horizons again. 

(Wieder Seitenstraßen unter den eigenen Reifen. Spuren finden durch Reihen geschlosssener Buden. Pendlerstrecken kreuzend, Abstand haltend zu Allem und Allen. Erstes Hupen, nebenan, erste laute Flüche, ein Straßenbahnfahrer klingelt wütend in der blockierten Kreuzung. Ampeln auf Rot, dann auf Grün, trotzdem kaum Bewegung. Die Betonbrache hinter den Gleisen atmet diesselbe unberührte Ruhe wie immer. Zwischen den Vierteln, unter einem pastellweichen Himmel.)

4pm. Old dark, new dark and summing up the day. No real takeaway so far, but there are still hours left. Sometimes it's just about changing locations and states of mind. Maybe.