Considerably later, returning, returned. Head spinning, thoughts dissolving in too many threads, unrelated, unsynchronized. Pictures in between, the echo of conversations started not finished, the kindness and the gaps, the gardens, the walls. Here be dragons. Or elephants. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.
6pm. Loss of temperature. Wet under a strong rain, in the midst of summer. Embraced by fog to rise from the hills, in silence while taking a deep breath. Wood, earth, meadow. More about stories of old.
Später verweilt man zwischen anderen Hügeln am Fluss. Es gibt nur noch wenige Gasthäuser entlang dieser Routen, aber die meisten verkaufen brauchbare Biere, und nach kurzer Zeit dort verliert man noch mehr den Draht zu den gegenwärtigen Stunden, dafür wird der Gebrauch der alten Mundart wieder sicherer und gewohnter. Nach wie vielen Jahren werden Gewohnheiten Traditionen, und wie lang bleiben Traditionen freundlich und gut?
10pm. Wearing the night like a cape, hiding in the hood, invisible to what owns these hours. Sounds of dogs across the village, and of wild animals hiding where the fields end in forest. Scent of a fire that faded long ago, and a moment of serenity under the few stars that were spilled across thin clouds. Always at the edge of another day.
Closed doors, haunted windows.