notes from the outer world.

7pm. Returning with the dusk. An orchestra of doors, opening, closing, in the street: Weekend travelers returning home, early commuters packing their cars, slowed-down neighbours carrying bottles and food onto their balconies. It's all but warm, it's all but cold, Somehow the day has found its balance, somehow the evening spoils with light a bit softer than usual. The odds and ends of sunday evening.

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