(Aus der schwierigen Jugend von damals sind die schwierigen Alten von heute geworden, und man verliert sich wieder in unbequemen Sichten auf Demographie, eigene Echokammern und der Wahrnehmung, dass die lauten Gespräche ganz selten die sind, die versöhnen und bereichern. Der Ton der Schlagzeilen, die lang gesäte Ausweglosigkeit. Berechtigter Frust, übersehene Privilegien. Und der Versuch des Grabens um die eigene Burg.)
The morning, too: Facts in twilight and elephants in old rooms. Not enough corners for each of them. And the challenges of digging through confusion to find some undisputable common ground.
Close to noon, both being too fast and too slow through the morning once more. Layers of communication, resolving mismatches, pondering and observing the human kind of protocols for inter-person exchange and at the same time feeling weird for even being into this kind of terminology. Nonformal languages. There's always enough grey in between everything.
4pm and moving on. A strong breeze again, rain in face and hair and clothes and leaving parts of the city behind to descend into others. Slightly dizzy, more than just a bit off track. Music turned all up to quiesce a rather loud imposter voice murmuring dark phrases in these hours.
Closing in on 10am. Weeding the important from the noise. Cutting sessions to planned size. The challenges of appointments that take too long and keep too many people involved, still. And the troubles of finding answers without deviating into sidelines. Nothing new, yet never getting much easier.