Later, that very day. Managed to fit some pieces back together, still cautiously watching how this will work out with everything in motion again and there are poor analogies to actual machines and engines and yet the grinding of faulty gears seems something to work out across totally different fields of technology. We might not know how to fix it but at least there's a good chance to know it's broken. (Letting the own mechanisms slow down into a temporary halting state. The neighbourhood already seems to have done so a while ago and maybe this isn't a bad option to consider. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.)

Much later, different hours similar mindsets, wondering where the day went, having a brief drink and adding some more scribbles in between the lines of mental and actual journals. No talent to be seen but still it feels relieving. Clouds above, clouds within. Wasting precious hours pondering how some things go, some things went. Afraid to notice how one changed along with them. (And then powering down the lights. Waiting for the eyes to adapt to the twilight. And for the thoughts to settle at least a bit. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.)

The other end of the day. Own neighbourhood, above streets and roofs again, calming down. Trees full of starlings, chatter filling rooms and backyards. Music from the pub, decent and familiar. Balcony conversations. And an invisible cloudy sky hiding moon and stars and maybe dreams. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are. 

Quite a bit later again: New life behind old storefronts, but at this time of day furniture is hiding in the dark. A dance of colours in the appartement across, balcony door randomly opening, closing by invisible hands, cutting music in slices but still senses manage to recognise melody lines and some words along with these. (Yawning and adapting. A city-dark sky and a story of distance and different inner selves. Untold. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.)

A little later. Sunday evening mood, in full swing again. Tea has cooled down, so has the appartment. Yawning in face of the week to come. Indecisive whether to find sleep early or just give up on it and navigate the dark hours as conscious and aware as somewhat possible. Have a soft night wherever you are. 

Finally: Concluding the day, almost at the same hour at which it started, but miles apart and quite a bit more tired. Amazing how little time the mind takes to get accustomed to the common surroundings, how fast the senses recollect the evening proceedings of a sleepy city neighbourhood. Christmas echoes, familiar movies in warm colours on huge screens. A balcony in dim window light, housing bunches of empty bottles. A cab parking second row, waiting for whoever feels like moving on through this evening. Contemplating, letting the candles rest, listening to the distance and again waiting for stars to come out. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.