4 a.m.

It is this time of night when my camera finds it hard to get things in focus but my head is clear. There is a big ship on the horizon, bright lights, people floating over the ocean. I sit inside the spaceship, the round building from where I’ve been observing the day ending and starting. The seagulls are out already and the first blackbirds are singing.

Earlier on, around 3, when the hour of the wolf was starting, I walked to the sea. I realised I’ve never walked to the sea in the night. The sky was cloudy but in the start of summer, just after midsummer (and in the words time gets mixed up, the middle is when the summer starts) the nights are light and they make my thoughts light. The sea was a dark blue, as dark as the sky and the waves carried the light of the houses on the right side of the beach into my direction. Bats were flying around my head as I sat on the rocks. In the far right there were still traces of the sun, the edge of the sky a pale pink and yellow. The sun never really leaves here these days.

My silent witness had disappeared. The one-eyed man who sat on the edge of the field staring up at the sky has vanished. The chair he has been sitting on is still there and some left over bits of his skin, his hard skull. I wonder if the kids took him apart or if the big amounts of rain dissolved him.

My companions have left as well. Yesterday they all went. Joakim, the king of the fishing pond, the mad professor. Therese, my fellow hunter, the dreamer who talked to jellyfish. Judit who has been slowly turning rough wool into beautiful wearable objects. Balint who captured our sounds when we were loud and made us silent when we were listening to his magic noises. Valeria who moved inbetween us, who moved us. Some of them are home by now, telling a daughter about gracious see-through creatures, a girlfriend about hundreds of blue fragile spheres, others are still on the road, laughing with friends, dreaming about what will come, waiting for an airplane to take them home.

I am still here. The one who is always leaving has stayed. It won’t be staying for long, but for now I stay. And I sit inside the silent spaceship and look a the sea and my thoughts take me back and forth.