For the past several months I've been accustomed to awakening most of the nights at about 4 a.m. and getting up only to drink something. I always thought coffee was the culprit, but today, after picking up Mark Obama Ndesandjo's novel "Nairobi To Shenzhen" and spending the last hour reading along, I was just stunned.
"It was the angst that roused him from sleep." Ohhh, that drumbeat of unease has struck me lately, too. It's weird at such moments the mind tends to become so alert, hardly befuddled by the immediately precedent period of slumber. Memories "ebb and flow, enter and exit the consciousness". Talking about the verses from my own high school that suddenly leaped out of obscurity and are as clear to me now as yesterday, it's Thomas Gray's musing from year 1750:
"Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray;
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way."
It's 6:10 in the morning now. Everything seems to have stopped.
My photo gallery of Sweden at Pbase: