Sleep (by Max Richter) — part 2


June 3rd, 2023

There is a rhythm that is beyond the simplicity of heartbeats and continuity of breaths. A rhythm of subtle clues from the inside and outside. A rhythm of the totality of awareness of one’s body when its complexity distills to a single point of being. And the rhythm of murmurs and hums that fill all the spaces within a particular room and building and localization.

Thoughts are no longer swarming in the mind and consciousness when that moment comes — right before the darkness of raw oblivion of sleep takes hold and tightens the grip on being. There is warmth in the muscles and joints and extremities, which is the last sensation registered (with pleasure and contentment) by the drifting mind.

Happy is sleep when there is no regret at the moment when we open our eyes again.

And happy is sleep when there are no jolts disturbing it. A long-forgotten thought of deep-buried embarrassment can rattle even the most relaxed mind at night. And an unexpected sound, a croaking somewhere, or wind rustling something can be quickly and exaggeratedly transformed by the mind into a surreal story or expectancy of terror.

The moon is important in all that as well. I am not sure exactly how — but it is something I feel in myself by default rhetorical understanding and will find out the truth eventually. I have been conditioned since childhood to see the moon as a sinister entity. I never questioned the validity of this view — until now — and I believe that idea might be fundamentally wrong.



footsteps of the Furies

“for they knew what sort of noise it was; they recognize, by now, the footsteps of the Furies”. Enjoying life on the road to recovery. Observing and writing.