4pm and on. Running through calls in tight sequence piles up artifacts that somehow require documentation and attention. Quietly shouting at ones on poor handwriting style so postprocessing all these roughly collected notes becomes an immediate task in order to not lose important nuances. Staring at the cameras as if to make it embarrassed but failing at it. Pondering plays on words and how they fail in other languages all too often. System fans running louder again. Shadows in the backyard. The sun stayed. The day didn't.
4pm again, almost. Relocating between offices. Or places that could just be used as offices. Depending on ones point of view, or on ones temporary mood. Not managing to find the right music, for the moment. Or the right speed. Still halfway into everything. And still a bit out in the sun.
4pm and on. Messing up time formats and zones. Once again. Some issues are a nasty re-occurring source of fun, much as pondering what to do when entering or leaving DST twice a year anew - both trivial and yet not at all. On the other side of the backyard, people are leaving office early today. Some seem to have spent money on new air conditioners. Everyone else just resorted to sweating and coping. As far as possible.
Kalter Kaffee, kalte Hände. Nur kurzes Innehalten in den Abläufen, heute. Ohne Kuchen, ohne Sonne. Vor der Kneipe werden Treppen und Bürgersteig gekehrt, gegenüber rennt der Briefträger von Haus zu Haus, schiebt ein voll bepacktes Fahrrad in die Tiefen des Viertels, gelegentlich in den Kreisen von Passanten hängenbleibend, aber nie für lang. Der Herbst schüttelt immer mehr Blätter von den Bäumen der Höfe, die in Böen meterweit tanzen, bis sie auf irgendeinem Balkon, den Wiesen, den grauen Steinen landen. Donnerstag und immer noch nicht in einem stabilen Rhythmus. Alles wirkt getrieben und schnell.