Entlang von Quartieren und Straßen. Im Schein erhellter, geschmückter Balkone. Nah genug an allem, um auch Nuancen wahrzunehmen. Fern genug von allem, um den Strom der Eindrücke beherrschbar zu halten. Auch: Auswählen. Entscheiden. Und wieder heimwärts ziehen. Geschichten über Gewohntes und Schönes und schlechtes Gewissen und das allgegenwärtige Gefühl von Schuld im Schatten eigener Prioritäten und Schwächen. Dunkelheit aus Samt, scheue Gestirne in unerreichbarer Höhe.

Online and reattached. Watching rows and columns of numbers fly by, looking for traces in a pile of shapeless garbage. Broken pipes, broken analogies. A frosty night to pull in across the neighbourhood. Moon in hiding, blue lights blue notes from the pub and a lonely electric scooter hibernating on the sidewalk. The boundaries of electric dreams. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

A lot later again. Not really slowed down so far even while feeling uneasy with this kind of continuous speed. Still watching progress, small steps, random errors, odd complications. Taking notes for the new day to resume. The neighbours seem busy rolling out all kinds of coloured lights and ornaments to their terrace railings, the sparkling brightness is astounding even seen from a distance. Wanting to grasp things in paragraphs, but words seem stuck and thoughts all wound-up in itself. Little rest for the weird. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

The laziness of warm surroundings later that evening. Darkness outside, and a few distant noises are suggesting teenagers resist the night and the cold on one of the parking lots, doing whatever feels appropriate on their way into night. Slowing down. The sensation of water, yawning at the mirror self and not trying to align perceptions anymore for today. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are. 

Lichterzimmer, Fortgang. Nachbars Kind mustert aus großen Augen sprachlos die goldwarmen Sterne, die auf dem Nadelholzstrauch am Treppenabsatz thronen. Man begegnet sich wieder häufiger. Und manchmal versucht man zu verstehen, wohin die eigene wortlose Faszination geflohen ist.

Mondlicht im Schleier, Mondlicht auf künstlichen Sternen. Wacholder, Staub, zerkratzte Hände. Altes Holz. Durchmischte mentale Verfassung. Das Viertel im Dönergrill, und ein paar neue Gesichter. Nachtrand. 

Rückzug ins Selbst, immer wieder unter warmen Schauern. Das Rauschen der Nachbarschaft im Rauschen der Tropfen. Darauf wartend, dass abgewaschen ist, was der Tag nicht mehr braucht, unsicher, was dann übrig bleibt. Und schließlich Handtuchkälte, fröstelnd auf glattem Boden, sinnierend über das Wasser und die See und ungleichmäßige Empfindungen von Wetter. Wo Anspannung weicht, bleibt Müdigkeit. 

Many hours ahead, or behind. Sitting on a metaphorical bench, waiting for the soul to catch up processing the images and noises and scents of the day, still. Feeling limits to ones own vocabulary, in some situations. No matter the language. A brief glimpse across the dozing neighbourhood, a feeling of comfort in the many small yet bright windows, the alternating colours of the terrace stars, the nuances and textures of a cloudy nightsky spanning hill to hill across an urban sea of light. Heavy-headed, barely awake. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

And then it's late again. Weekend ending, mornings drawing near, topics of the busy hours resurfacing. Night as an option, dreams as a promise, memories stuck somewhere in between. Across the street it's a late dinner today as well, and a cigarette near the open kitchen window. The evenings and the silent skies. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are. 

Vorabend etliche Straßen weiter. Geduscht und müde, heiße Herdplatten und unvorsichtige Handgriffe. Fehler bleiben nicht lang verborgen. Aber aber zumindest die Reflexe funktionieren auch an diesem Ende des Tages noch. 

The later hours. Music faded, lights dimmed, the pub seems more quiet than usual during this time of week. A cab passing through the crossroads entering the street, about to pick up a young couple and two huge suitcases. And for a moment mind starts wandering across the houses. Considering appartments and balconies and feeling surprisingly concerned by the idea that many of them might be just home to very temporary inhabitants. But maybe that's nothing for now to care about. A deep sigh, a quiet breath, and always one dream on the shelf for situations like this. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

Us, as in the autumn winds.

📷 lost-in-moments