I’ve been reading and writing about sleep; about its absence, really. I’m away on book tour and, as per usual, my relationship with the dark hours is— to say the least— interesting. I had a short run of nights of sleep before I came away which often seems to make the sleepless nights feel much, much worse, somehow.
I’m trying, best I can, to reframe the way I view this sleeplessness; to find ways to mould it from being a thing of lack and loss— to one of gain. What might those hours hold for me, for my work, for my life?
Something that I have long known plays into my insomnia is
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