The cauldrons of insomnia

Insomnia looks like daylight. Excited, the mind perceives every glow, hears every noise, feels every mood. The reason is broad, intoxicated for causes that reach the heart. In reality, the mind listens to its body.

I ate oysters, acras, and fish fillet for dinner, all skilfully diluted in a few glasses of nutmeg. My stomach protested so well that it kept the furnace active. I am unable to sleep with this noise. That’s all it took to dream abundantly, to believe that you are the victim of a plot, to solve it by waking up and then to dive back into another labyrinth of nonsense.

If the brain gets lost so easily with a few grams of food, how could it not be affected by the air of the times, the jolts of the peoples, the attraction of the Moon and the distant call of the black holes?

Fortunately, there is a day to provide us with some resemblance of certainty.