I forgot what was wrong. In an act of pure evil, I no longer thought about the world. Evil is able to sleep. Good cannot. Torture is lack of sleep. Sleepless hurts a lot. The good are wakeful, alive and grateful. But I'm going to bed early, a wretch seeking comfort and dreams. Good's reality is only what evil, sleeping, seems. Everything has already happened, not only because it's happened, but how can what's happened not determine what will happen? It's profound to know this and relax. The profound is mostly found in books. But this is truly profound. Quiet breathing. Bach in the distance. How my dream looks.
