10pm, moving on slowly. A bright moon low above the hills and roofs of the old farm. There's a dog howling for a short moment. The sound of an old rusty car coughing on main street, the only street out here. Old places, change visible in so many details no matter how small, and yet, at night and with windows opened wide to this calm darkness, there's that old vague ambivalent feeling of comfort of being here completely- and yearning to roam free far from these forests and fields.