4pm, small steps for everyone including mankind and oneself. Random strong gusts, vertical rain, parents on the bus stop trying to hide their kids from the weather. Sun has given in and went to take a nap, meanwhile the magpies and crows came to watch afternoon unfold. Changing modes and hats and clothes, for the private late person never completely loses touch with the earlier professional one completely anyhow.
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.
3pm and on. Judging by the pale early darkness in between these houses, could be very well hours later. Disconnected from the flow for now and already done with the usual rhythm. Tea, to counter caffeine side-effects. A small candle. Fingertips in hot wax, by accident. At least at first. And even more rain.
Unto the storm. Music for drifting just slightly below grey clouds.
(Also, while on that wind: Writing some thoughts out to light sheets of paper. Folding them to planes and birds and letting them be carried away to murky distances. No matter how heavy, most things will fly given just the right approach.)