10am and on. Thin snow falling from mostly lightless skies again. Leaving villages that hide in between pale white hills. Further up, weather has shaped odd white structure around the bushes that side of the road. Still trying to embrace winter.
4pm and on. Flowing with the tides and the traffic, outbound, under a low bright sun. Snowcovered trees in the distance, powerlines and bridges left and right, villages and farms surrounded by muddy fields and grey batches of forest. Rolling wheels. Swinging between modes and moods again.
4pm, heading on. Halfway into communication. Moving fast, collecting tasks to appear left and right, trying to keep a clear sight on what's to be achieved. A little of blue sky, clouds hurrying elsewhere, early sunset and still not feeling like having accomplished a lot today. All familiar perceptions in everything. Wrestling imposter and imperfection.
9pm and on. Pondering shapes of stories and irregular characters and the weirdness in typesetting and the shadows cast by burnt-down candles. And weather. A dark person moving behind curtains on the other side of the road. A car alert going off for a few moments, silenced fast enough before being able to notice details. Ephemeral thoughts in the emptiness of late busses.
(Am Wegesrand: Weiches Laub unter den Sohlen und um die Schuhe. Kurz verharren. Auf der Terrasse des Abrisshauses feiern Nachbarn aus jenem Viertel, sitzen an einen rostigen Grill und trinken Bier aus Dosen. Baustellenbeschilderung, zerbrochene Fenster, Ausfallstraßen. Manche Städte haben spürbareres Grau als andere.)