Migration

Unmoored

The light looks exactly the same in morning as at 4’o’clock in the afternoon as at midnight. Our superimposed time structure feels very flimsy. And so night is arbitrary and sleep becomes a series of hallucinations. I rest, I wake, the light is the same; I rest and wake some more and it is the same. And then, somehow it is time to get up. Or maybe it is time to go back to sleep. Or maybe I slept through the day and it is night again. Perhaps I haven’t slept at all.