10pm. Crossing thresholds again, unsure whether or not of real importance. Circuits lowering frequency, everywhere, in the machines and in the self. Some more unfocussed thoughts, imaginary patterns and random ideas, with origins that are hard to impossible to trace. The stories to be seen in dark staircases, facades with only a very few windows lit, the scent of spicy food and old grease in the backyard. The usual course of nights.