The day went by quickly, as all of its predecessors did, this week. Friday evening, backdoor observations, the sound of what seems at least wind in the ash leaves above, the vast differences of the aural environment comparing city and village without any real preference, just a perception of different outer realities shaping different inner modes. Staring into early dark, until eyes grow tired enough to feel comfortable closing them for a bit. Sleep safe everyone wherever you are.

Finally: The day and its chores the evening and its deviations and the neigbhourhood still indecisive between the seasons, wanting to embrace new warmth and still set to face new cold once the dark is moving in. Scents of fires but outside the narrow confinement of the backyards. A tram ringing somewhere down the streets. A whispering of night in the trees, and a breath of early dreams in a strained mind. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

Quite a lot later: Windows opened wide, machines already asleep. Trying to get some of the dense quietness from the outside to the inside, and again not doing very good at it. The hours went by, reordered, and there's just so much pleasure in things finished knowing how much has left open still. (Emptying the mug. Reading a few lines on paper, merely for the ritual and noticing words pass through unremembered. In for a pause, even though worried about dreams. Have a soft night wherever you are.)

Later: Meadows, trees, creek, sky. A car on the bypass, heading north. Closed windowblinds, most of the houses along the narrow road have entered night mode quite a while ago. Hills but as imaginary lines out there where the darkness seems to differ in its shades. A dream for the forest and the pond and the distant city. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

Slowing down, elsewhere. Backdoor, meadows, creek and listening to the world in between the hills. Time moved on, yet grateful for everything that remained unchanged out here. Reaching for this nights stories, eyes in the sky and waiting for stars and constellations to grant a sense of location and direction at larger scale. Thinking, overthinking, at the same time feeling bad for wasting brain cycles on pointless mental endeavours. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

Windowpane meditations. Watching the self watching the city and suspecting the city to stare back.

https://vill4in.bandcamp.com/album/void-001-anubis-xiii 

Late hours once more. The silent world unfolding below. The silent sky spreading across houses parks rivers, just like it always did. Resting in that moment to consciously feel like a small part of all that, waiting for thoughts to settle. Not yet ready for the night. Sleep well everyone wherever you are. 

(Abendküche, unsicherer Griff, heißes Wasser, das über Haut und Arbeitsflächen gen Boden fließt. Schmerzende Hände. Den Schreck nicht unterdrückt, den Ärger irgendwie schon. Und dann kurz unter dem Himmel der Höfe, zwischen Wänden und Bäumen. Mülltonnen klappern und quietschen, leere Kisten stapeln sich, eine Stadtkatze verharrt geduckt zwischen den Sträuchern. Etagen weiter oben sind die Türen geöffnet. Hier duftet der Flur nach Gebäck und Waschnüssen, Kinder lachen. Nochmal Tee, noch eine Kerze. Und tief durchatmen.)

Very much later. A brief moment of serenity. That spot of quietness within, watching thoughts spiral at high speed and feeling unable to identify particular details. Cat on the windowsill, dark silhouette against the outside world, static and indifferent. There's some party going on at the pub, coloured lights dancing along the street included, a bowl housing shivering flames, a worn-down brushed carpet. No celebrities, just that familiar crowd and the evening it decided to bring. Distant observer, stories shaping themselves. Have a soft night everyone wherever you are.