Stehenbleiben, um zu beobachten, wie die Wetter vorüber ziehen, sich Sonne und Regen abwechseln, die Jahreszeiten einander streicheln über Ästen voll mit reifen Pflaumen, über stillen Wiesen, über verfallenen Siedlungen. Die Menschlichkeit sehen, in sich, in anderen. Fröstelnd, gestreift vom Hauch dahinfliehender Zeit.
A slow morning. The other city. Starting to find patterns in that sensation of greyness in between these facades. Living along a plan as a reoccuring state of things, wondering whether things are actually this way or whether it's just a habit of how to handle ones days, week or weekend, in general. But maybe it doesn't matter much.
The rain and the different kinds of water. Judging intensity of the drops by the sounds they play on leaves and stones. A day just changing its shades without turning much brighter.
Stunden weiter, Sonne noch immer nur eine Idee. Die andere Stadt, die Baustellen, die Umwege, das Grau. Ankerloses Treiben, in Tälern auch mentaler Topographie.
Closing in on 5pm. A break. A retreat. And common rituals. The noise in the streets is almost unheard by now, sure to return with the night.
📷 lost-in-moments