Tonight won't end until dawn says so

Last night he gave up, overwhelmed by sleep. He fought for a while against the weight of his eyelids. Then he remembered his friends' advice. Why do you care? Tomorrow always comes. He's not that sure, chromosomal skeptic. But he concedes that at the end they've always been right. Anyway today you've got no excuse. You've slept enough, you don't have to work, tonight won't end until dawn says so. What's the point? You might be thinking. The point? Well...why? He replies with surprise. Tomorrow, as you say, will probably come. But the day after that...well...how do I know?

Image "Dancing 'til dawn" by Marianne Millar, from Allposters.com

The last tie - Bangkok, Thailand

There are nights when falling asleep is tantamount to murder. It might just be a book that you have finished reading, or maybe an evening, a relation or an encounter. You feel that by sleeping and putting an end to the day you're untying the last bond between you and that experience. And the one thing that you definitely don't want to do is cutting that tie by means of a dream.

(Image: Le Rêve, Pablo Picasso. 1932)

Thoughts of a very long night - Bangkok, Thailand

He turns around for the hundredth time. His head has sunk once more into the pillow but one eye is still staring at the guitar in the corner. He read, wrote, browsed and played: a triathlon among pages, screens and chords. Then he's stored everything, he's brushed his teeth, done push-ups and hit the sack. He's read one last chapter with tensed cheeks and brow, then he thought it over and blamed it on his hormones, got a pack of tissues and did more exercise. But he's still there, staring at nothing, only a part of his body finally asleep.

The guitar is calling him and he doesn't reply, but it's like trying to sleep in a busy steel-mill. He puts the book aside and grabs the instrument. He turns on his laptop and finds the exercises, then he tries two or three chords yet doesn't strum. He checks the time, it's morning already: the ban on the noise no longer applies. They call it insomnia, but it's not his case, when everybody else is trotting he falls asleep. And while his thoughts are bumping into each other, he hits the first chord of How do you sleep by John Lennon.

Image "Insomnia, tacuinum sanitatis casanatensis" from wikipedia.org