Return of artificial stars to terraces and balconies with the year passing by. Neighbours engaged into disputes, windows opened way too wide to ignore. Once again. Monday in retrospect: An unordered collection of random sheets in what just vaguely resembles a book or magazine. A late pot of tea and a plethora of unresolved pending tasks. Progress but too little to be satisfied. Maybe tomorrow. Sleep tight everyone wherever you are.

Clash of subjects when it comes to managing attention. Once again on and off routines, slightly exhausted from switching context a bit too often, and mixing up things that ought not to relate. Unplayed piano chords, small lanterns on the bookshelf, different lights different moods. A mug of tea. And a few notes, in strong words, to get rid of annoying thoughts before the hours pass. Have a soft night wherever you are.

The clouds closing in around the trees in the backyard. A mind thinking along certain lines seeing visual glitches just along the edges of the roofs but there aren't pixels in an analog sky. Cleaning inboxes, leaving notes for others, and for ones own self in the morning. Not after proving ones own being-human to the machine of course. Lost for words to describe the light outside and maybe then and now that's the beauty of hours like this. Have a calm night wherever you are.

Stehenbleiben, um zu beobachten, wie die Wetter vorüber ziehen, sich Sonne und Regen abwechseln, die Jahreszeiten einander streicheln über Ästen voll mit reifen Pflaumen, über stillen Wiesen, über verfallenen Siedlungen. Die Menschlichkeit sehen, in sich, in anderen. Fröstelnd, gestreift vom Hauch dahinfliehender Zeit. 

Rain came, rain went and sometimes there's a strange timing in things. There are clouds and there are gaps they leave and there is wind and water dripping from the leaves of the road trees and all of it is encompassed by an indifferent darkness. A single candle, flickering in the breath of the half-opened window.  Distant conversations, ones own pulse and a lot of shivering in silence. Have a soothing night and be well everyone, wherever you are.

4pm and on. Aligning needs and limitations. Clashing priorities, objections voiced too late, proceedings derailed. Context derailed, too. It's all sand in the shoes from here. And vessels on a blue plane, following dashed lines. The sun is everywhere. Head spinning. 

Am Wegesrand in dem Gefühl, anderer Leute Heimat zu durchmessen und gerade keinen richtigen Ort zu haben. Jene Zeit, jener Zustand, in dem das Selbst Dinge abheftet, eine Realität ablegt, eine andere überzieht, und irgendwie spannt und zieht das Gewebe für unangenehme Minuten, bis man wieder in die Form gefunden hat. Samstagnachmittag, kurz in diesem alten golden Licht, das ehedem auf den Feierabend nach erfüllten Stunden schien, während dieser fernen Sommer des Dorfes hinter den Hügeln. Dann treiben Gewitter über die Felder, neigen sich Büsche im Sturm, schlägt Wasser hart auf Beton. Stadtwärts. Weiter. Wenn auch etwas zögernder.