-There’s a warmth I feel as I crawl back into myself and lose grip of consciousness. Somewhere in there, between the sober reality and my sonambulistic subjectivity, I know I’ve lived this day twice and still have no memory of the day itself. There are these vague images, like sketch art, forming this montage in my head. A terminal, people, suitcases and cars, but in my state, now, as I ly inert it makes no sense. It was the sleep of leaving that cradled me from six thousand miles away, and now, it’s the fatigue of the momentary lapse between worlds, and yet I remain apart from this one.
The long hours now spent in slumber, it is certain dreams have come and gone, but have left no trace and my mind feels empty. I open my eyes and the world I recognize is a blur. I close my eyes. My breath, raises my chest. It collapses and I can feel the wramth of the blood flowing through me. Then I again cease as I crawl back into my coccoon.
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