Schon halb durch den Nachmittag, dauerhaft außerhalb des eigenen Taktes. Zerrissene Himmel, fahles Licht, der Ventilator treibt feuchtwarme Luft um die Tische und Beine, Stunden vergehen und das Denken fällt schwerer. Benachrichtigungen, zufällig sortiert. Erstaunen weicht Erkenntnis, Begeisterung schmeckt anders. Lose Blätter, lose Enden, kalt gewordener Kaffee. Die Prioritäten des kommenden Tages lassen wenig Raum für Abweichung von festen Routen. Man war schon festeren Schrittes unterwegs.
Close to 4pm again. A different black tee, keeping jackets in the backpack for now. No good choice of music but some aural environment is needed to calm down the inner monologues stirring up each other. Closed doors, staircases, the backyard, the fountain and no particular mood under a light blue sky.
Changing route for now. Circumventing the crowded squares, passing bridges and crossroads and staying focused and tense until traffic calms down a bit. Outbound roads, foggy horizon, different parts of the city under a grey cloud. But some blue sky in between still. 3pm again. Moving on.
No rain so far, wondering whether it will stay this way. Sneaking outbound, passing railroad infrastructure and crowded office neighbourhoods and walls covered with poorly sprayed graffiti all over. Another traffic light, another sharp turn, a trip, a familiar destination. And stories of too frequent context switches, breaking down thoughts to mere words. Because mind gets entangled too much in any more complex structure. 3pm, and on.
4pm. In between, as a state of mental being. That weird moment of emptiness when mind retreats from its daily schedule, at least for a while. Heavy traffic, chicory and yarrow in between train tracks, a soft breeze to caress leaves and blossoms and a crowd of kids running old-fashioned scooters down the sidewalk, racing past each other, giggling and out of breath. Stories of summer breaks and all the adventures they used to encompass.