Days and nights at home.
Little fir tree with some of the earth it grew up in.
Longer nights.
Some kind of core inertia, not fatigue exactly, but a deep sleepiness.
Elaborate dreams just before waking, and just off the shore of remembering.
A sense of shifting distances in time and place: last week has changed places with an evening years ago.
I would like a cocoon. A sleeping husk for winter. To sleep for a a few days, like Orlando. And wake up, having changed.
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