10pm and on. Sounds of rain but still the street is dusty and dry. A chill of growing storms on bare skin but yet the stones of the sidewalk are hot with the sunlight of a past day. A few notes between the lines of the page, more scribble than actual writing. Snapshots of the current state of thoughts, more in form than content. Desirable skills, too: Knowing when to get sleep, after the hours that make these weeks. Still practising, still on apprentice level. (Have a quiet night anyone, wherever you are.)