Taedium Vitae

Couldn’t sleep at all last night. The wind was howling round the house on Big Hill and I just couldn’t get my heart to slow down. With my son in the next room and a guest downstairs I couldn’t indulge in my customary insomniac prowling through the house, nor seek solace in the distractions of the internet, or the activity of working. I had to just lie there and see the night out.

Consequently, I feel fragile. Robbed of drive, or ambition, or focus, there is nothing left but the question of “Is it worth it?”

The sight of a woman’s thighs makes me curiously sad. The fat businessman at the coffee stand – with the weak vein pounding hard in his podgy neck – washes me with a very general, non-specific despair.

The cold air can sometimes be taken personally.

Treasure your sleep, friends. Treasure your sleep.

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