Earlier than usual, later than expected and somewhere in between. Lost signal amidst piling irrelevances, trying to extract a few meaningful bits from a seemingly never-ending stream. The city's still in fast pace, a crowd of dark shadows waiting for a late bus, tips of cigarettes pulsing above small pale screens, a dog carrying a green light down to the river. Dull rusty sky, no snow no constellations but the will to dream. Sleep tight at some point, wherever you are.

Slowing down after some more fast minutes. Listening to the outside and the inside world. City breathing below again, the neighbours concluding this evening, preparing for the week to have its space and there's enough agenda and outline in the days already for this night to feel restless and thin. Cautiously moving on. Not to at least touch all the open ends that remained unnoticed so far. One dream at a time. Sleep safe everyone wherever you are. 

Many hours many breaths and stops and heartbeats later. More than enough tensions and trails and tracks for one day. Head spinning, slightly clouded. Still unsure where in the week this evening is supposed to be. Neighbours resorting to warm lights, windows mostly stay closed except for that one balcony above the corner where people still tend to have a cigarette in the cold dark. Dearly wanting one of these right now. Stories of habits and persistency. And guilt as a reoccurring topic too. (Sleep tight once it's about time for that, wherever you are.)

Another deep breath at the edge of night. Mostly calmed down, different kind of journeys different kinds of travelling, even though with the days noticing how much mind and thoughts are used to that jumping monkey mode of operation, that clumsy juggling of plenty of tasks at once that keeps filling the bright conscious hours. Somewhat exhausted, exercises in silence by following the lines of writings on old pages, fingers tapping words, inhaling the scent of the paper and the cover and the years the summers the autumns summed up in it. A dream but without a script. Hopefully? Sleep tight everyone wherever you are!

Later again, still in a flow of data. Forking, joining, hoping for the steps in between to be in the right order and passed on the right conditions. Outside the city decided to go for old music, a strange  vibe of cheap techno echoing in between old facades. Bright headlights of a car parking second row, some laughter some fast steps and a heavy door falling shut. Travelers returning, leaving summers and distance behind, spreading a familiar and still overwhelming sense of melancholy all across these weeks. Golden leaves, ripe chestnuts soft in hands, years in stories. And always a bit behind things. Have a soft night everyone wherever you are.

Hours later again, gazing into wild clouds. Not sure whether there's a storm taking shape or just a dense dream of another day to cease. The pub is closed, people are resorting to drinking near the crossroads, arguing with each other and the electric scooters and lighting a cigarette, then and now. Late bus, a cab entering the street in slow-motion, a bunch of people in dark clothes hurrying their luggage in and within a wink of an eye they're off and outbound. Browsing old pictures. A random sigh. And a lot of different textures of silence. Have a soft night everyone wherever you are.

Relogin, later again. The calming sensation of being surrounded by the own neighbourhood again, of feeling the warmth from its old stones, breathing its scent, perceiving its light behind still-stained windows. Late bus, almost empty. Two electric scooters behind the stop, green lights flashing and it's not possible to break into their conversation. A new neighbour on the balcony, short pants, heavy tattoos and a bottle of thin beer which seems an odd contrast to the rest of his appearance. Staring into distance, mind chasing clouds and stars and, as ever, waiting for some dreams to sink into. Have a soft evening wherever you are. 

Und dann doch nochmal Kontakt mit der Außenwelt. Ein Tag ohne Bilder, weil man nicht für Fotos innehalten mag und der eigene Speicher nicht aufnahmebereit ist. Supermarkt des geringsten Misstrauens, die Kälte der Flure, beiläufige Begegnungen, aber niemand hat Gedanken oder Gespräche und so gibt man sein Geld ab, packt die Taschen und sinkt wieder in den Beginn des Abends. Wie in ein dichtes Daunenbett mitten im Sommer. 

Different evening, wrestling different tasks, pushing forth a backlog of things asking for attention, more or less pressing. Down on the streets, a trailer is being unloaded. Suitcases, backpacks, a box of toys. Conversations next to the main door. Returning, always a bit calmer and more quiet than starting out on an adventure yet to be seen. (A small candle and an incense, the proximity of kind, featherweight ghosts, and a thinking in chords even lacking inspiration to play any of them. Be well on your way into your night everyone, wherever you are.)

The evening, earlier late hours and an attempt to counter some common issues. Making room for the unplanned, the unproductive, time without the need of an explicit purpose. Still, a task surprisingly hard to handle. Twilight in between the houses. People meeting in the pub, strong bass lines and some voices pushing out of the open door and floating through damp air before dissolving in echoes and darkness. A TV set flooding rooms across the street with artificial images. Silhouettes of people, motionless, quiet chairs. Seasonless mood, grateful for the rain but missing the warm nights. Have a soft evening everyone wherever you are.