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10pm and on. Emptying glasses again. Stories of former houses in familiar cities, to a point where no one knows for sure whether the place actually existed. With so many data virtually captured forever, it's tough to imagine information still can escape these records in between. (There are some more obvious ways to address this problem, but for none of them, expected outcome justifies effort. Maybe it doesn't matter that much after all.)

Afternoons. Old homes. A mug that has been around ever since late school days. And still a fallback for coffee in hours like these, watching another summer fly by. // 📷 lost-in-moments 

Wäscheplätze unter praller Sonne. Insekten flüstern Im Gras, das Holz alter Scheunen knackt. Noch viel ältere Obstbäume werfen dünne Schatten. Es ist kein Apfeljahr hier, auch kein Pflaumenjahr. Allenfalls Beeren reifen an dornigen Sträuchern. Verblühte Disteln, trockenes Moos, der Sommer wandert schwerfällig durch die Hitze dieser Zeit. 

Noon. Clouds drawing closer. Dim sun, no rain. // 📷 366skies 

Featherweight clouds, blue quiet skies, a deep green of trees covering soft hills. 9am and on. And that feeling of being surrounded by an old and self-sufficient world that, after all, cares very little about our ephemeral values and concerns.