Tuesday.

Putting the clocks back is a little difficult for me. I was awake around 5, which is 6, and I am now awaiting the sunrise in the east around 7, which is eight. Noon isn't at noon either.

Mother seemed to be watching the TV into the early hours, but I guess it was no later than 11. At that point I'd been in semi- unconscious from 7.

Depressed people tend to retire to bed earlier than others: or the opposite. I am definitely so disturbed by the world around that closing myself from it is the best option: bad thoughts crowd my mind before they depart and give space to true peace. The peace in sleep which is akin to death, or nonexistence.

***

Where are we going? Like demented souls, clinging to something beyond our eyesight, we peer wildly into an abyss. But the magic isn't anywhere else. It's in 'nothing'. Except for this 'nothingness' we waste our lives. Nothing is all there is. However it's not a cruel fate. Better than blessed teatree lights placed on bar tables. Time to go shortly back to the settling dust of the Monday flat. I left it as the operatives had finished their drillings. First night with the extractor above me head. Soon.