Wieder nach Mittag: Andere Stadt zwischen schneebedeckten Wäldern. Tannen vor dem Haus, und Vögel, die ihre Körner finden. Dazu Eichhörnchen auf dem Fensterbrett. Der Wind bleibt straff, die Sonne fern. Zeit hoher Kragen und heißer Getränke. Jede Wärme zählt.
9am and on. Sunless. On some days, snow will hide the dirty concrete, on others it will emphasise the grey. Slow motion under pale skies. Train tracks between houses that seem as old as time itself, even in ones limited perception. (Shortcuts. Choosing paths to avoid too much contact. A red brick church, few remaining Christmas lights. And the storm.)
Andere graue Städte in jener seltsamen Zeit zwischen den Jahren. Gesichter, die man kennt, ohne sich an Namen zu erinnern. Leere Plätze, geschlossene Türen, dunkle Fenster. Der Fluss bleibt hörbar, vieles andere schweigt. Und in manchen Situationen ist man vorsichtig dankbar dafür.
5pm and a pastel sunset. One single star on an otherwise calm sky. Surrounded by a different city and its glaring emptiness. Trying to be part of it, as good as possible yet never good enough.
11am and cautiously on. That ever-challenging balance between remaining planned and leaving space for random options. Another city and its own understanding of late autumn grey. Old streets crossing in between soft hills, briefly surrounding each other for a few miles to then disappear in these different valleys, heading elsewhere. Churches, worn-down factories, houses for rent and a layer of years covering these facades. A yearning for snow.