…Closing the door, you stand a little longer, listening to the light footsteps of the departing evening. The stairwell swallowed him up easily, just as it let him into my house yesterday with a box of “assorted” and an enigmatic smile. Going to the open window, you remove the slightly loaded ashtray from the windowsill, carefully brush off the spilled ashes and, inhaling a light veil of fresh air, free your heart from the sudden surging sadness… 4 in the morning is an amazing time, a careless pause between what has gone and what which is on its way…