Yet- I forget to mention the bedtime book- that haven of endless peace in which one immersed oneself before that dreamless sleep. Such comfort, such beauty. Where do they go, I wonder, these innocent days? Slowly disappearing into a sepia past, the contours fading into a web of relentless time... Time, our eternal enemy, bites into our black and white photographs leaving a trail of red. Our blood that slowly coagulates into rust and disappears into the ether altogether.
When extreme fatigue strikes me, I look into my fridge for chocolate. Such it has always been. Such it will always be. But today my fridge seems to be containing only the humble pumpkin, that hideous bumpkin. Seldom have I hated kumro so much, as today.
No chocolate. I am so tired.