Sunday, May 21, 2006
Sleep beckons like a long lost love. She cherishes your memory, if only in the fiction of your desires. There's nothing I want more, but she evades me. Perceptions change in slumber: all things are possible. As soon as I wake up, things are as they will be, regardless of my desires. The morning promises little except a few hours of a journey that never approaches the promises so sure in sleep.