Slapeloze Nachten

The night is awake again - or rather, pretending to be asleep. Outside the window, everything has fallen silent, even the refrigerator is breathing less frequently, but inside, on the contrary, a festival of thoughts, plans, and half-imagined conversations is beginning. It seems that I could write a novel if I weren't lying motionless, staring at the ceiling, which stubbornly remains silent.

Sleep is standing somewhere on the threshold, but every time it is almost ready to enter, a new thought flashes in my head - and again, “oh, what if.” Time blurs, the hands of the clock become like background noise. And now it's morning, even though it seems like it was just “five to.” The world is still asleep, and someone is waiting for dawn again, propping their chin on their hand, listening to the night slowly fade away, winning on points.