(Schlaf gießt Eindrücke in Träume, die immer wieder aufschrecken lassen und trotzdem fliehen, ohne den Gedanken erhalten zu bleiben. Andere Geräusche, überall ringsum, deren Quellen ungesehen und allenfalls für verschieden helle Fantasie greifbar sind. Und dann: Schuhe binden, Türen entriegeln, die schmale Treppe hinuntersteigen zur Gasse und ihrem frühen Leben. Ein Morgen, neugierig und offen, selbst vor dem ersten Kaffee. Habt es mild heute!)
7pm and on. Bridges and channels. A veiled moon above. The backyards that are populated by locals much more than visitors. And a quiet service in some small church, open to the public and in a previously unknown way a natural part of life in these streets.
Morning hospitality: Cappuccino. Cornetto. Briefly engaged in conversations without understanding most of the words but yet it feels comfortable somehow. A couple of ducks still sleeping on stones near the river. Lazy sunrise. Slow motion, further south.
8am and on. First calls, first misunderstandings. The astounding effects of misconfigured audio, and colleagues that seem to have moved home office to the bottom of a huge metal trash can. Also: Language barreers. Both customer-specific and natural. (There's always a load lost in translation and friction.)