4 AM, not looking for sleep. I’ve variously pulled Oedipus the King, Visions of Cody, and Cities of the Red Night from the bookshelf next to my desk, looking for purchase. They’re all books I’ve read before, but I’m trying to occupy my mind.

I’ve reached that stage where you feel partnered with the night, and dread the arrival of the dawn you know will come too soon. It’s also the point where you say to yourself, “At this point, I might as well just stay up all night” and then regret it somewhere about 1:30 the next afternoon.

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