Mind plays tricks on you when you don't sleep and can't sleep.
As special friends would quickly recognize, I too am indeed "Un grande malade qui s'ignore sciemment." Sleepless and tired, I am about to somnambulate to the UN to have lunch with a diplomat friend who is the Chargé d'affaires for an Eastern European country. I don't want to go as I have been falling asleep sitting down at all sorts of places. As they say in Eastern Kentucky, "that'll learn ya, Bubba."
And in the spirit of this plagiaristic cross reference (and you thought I will never be upto it), there is always a method to this madness. Memory envelops me in the night. Silences. Conversations. Un dialogue qui surprend par son la simplicité ajoute à l’atmosphère tantôt impudique tantôt angoissante d’un univers que seul l’oubli semble vouloir apaiser. Pray to drink the elixir of eternal lapses of memory. Hmm, Well, I am no better than Gunther Grass, I shall declare (not so subtle reference to his memoir).
Here is to sweet, peaceful sleep that eludes me every night.
