Insomnia prodded me all night, a bit like when you were a kid and had a sleepover and that friend you were never really sure you liked kept asking if you were asleep yet.
Are you asleep yet. Are you asleep yet. Are you asleep yet.
I get up and read the news, which makes me wonder if I have in fact fallen asleep and I had merely dreamed about having been lying awake.
I put the fire on. Send some emails.
I continue reading Patricia Harman’s gorgeous novel. The first sentence I read is this:
“A song comes to
me and I hum the chorus. “And in the end,
only kindness matters . . .”
Is that true?
I think that it is.”
Yes. I think that it is too.
CHICADEROCK 
This is rather lovely. Out of insomnia comes lyrical writing.
Sounds like me! Great writing.