The fading weekend: Contemplating. Swiping through the pictures of the day, drawing routes into a mental map. Window opened wide, even the night unsure whether to remain late summer or early autumn, clouds obscuring stars and veiling the distance spanning across river and park and the roofs. Here again, as a point in time relating to a very certain mood. The neighbourhood still clings to the moment, a glass of wine somewhere, a fire in the backyards, a dinner near an open terrace door and trying to still keep the morning away. Sleep tight once you're ready for it, wherever you are.