We’ve been writing, keeping track of things we do not want to forget, inking things so they do not vanish. We read too, and try to uncover the secrets of the world, travel places and meet new people (albeit imaginary). We’ve been sleeping less, and dreaming lesser. I wonder when we’ll ever run out of things to write about. Our body’s almost failing and giving up, our emotions shallow, already too light, our souls too weak.
We need rest.
