awake for days

Night moving on fast again. Still close to 7 Celsius, seemingly leaving behind another winter that wasn’t. Windows opened wide, to not just hear but merely sense the air cooling down, the wind, the city outside. A fair amount of windows opening to the wide backyard, filling the night with noise, light. Even more noise from the streets on the other side of the buildings. Sleep’s still quite a bit away out here. And so night passes, with time being spent on the things to do late at night. Giving in to these things – wine, strong incenses, music, the dark outside. Not in order to ignore a certain massive understanding of “reality” of these days, and the fear, confusion and complexity it brings. But in order to accept it – and yet leave it aside, filter it out just for a while, break it all down to a bunch of concepts and ideas a little less complex…

Pessoa. Jaccottet. Rilke. Hesse. Written poetry on paper. Annotations, thoughts, vague ideas, written, on paper too. A moment to rediscover skills and interests that seemed lost somewhere all along the way. This is the moment to leave marks on the pages of old newspapers, to do scribbles and sketches , the moment to forget about being totally untalented at doing either of these and to still do so for the sake of it, because it seems appropriate, because there’s a desire of doing so, because it just feels so good for a moment?

And maybe at least that very moment will make for a good photo posted to Tumblr later on, a strange approach to preserving things by having them spread far and wide no matter how ridiculous or personal they might seem or be. That’s, then, what will remain once the morning’s closing in again: An bottle of Merlot, half emptied. Sequences of songs to follow through the day not completely unlike echoes fading away. A bunch of unsorted thoughts, more loose ends for an ever-growing pile of unused fragments of random inspiration. And a handful of grainy, desaturated shots on a carefully filtered timeline.
Starting points for thoughts for the next nights to come.
Maybe.

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