Looking at 10pm from behind, having stepped that line again. Music's slowly fading out, already unnoticed in a way, apart from a few harsh beats and breaks. With the cold bright desk light, world behind the window seems mostly shapeless black, and the street's coming to the motionless state common for an early mid-week evening. Closed windows, a closed bar, just a neighbour in shorts on the balcony next door, having a late cigarette and gazing at what seem stars only visible to him. Soundless clocks ticking on. Night leaves its first mark. (Where's that cat again?)
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