I borrowed a book from Haskell last night and I do what I always do... devour it as fast as I can. So anyways... it was really good, more of a thought provoking read than I usually choose myself, but it was good. And now I have that "it's over" depression that I always get when I finish something... kind of like when you have a friend for years and then you turn your back and walk away. That's how it always goes, tv series, books, in some cases music. I'm left wanting, wanting to know what happened, if anything happened after.
And so sleep ensued, wrapping the young man in illusion, taking him to a place that he found safety, comfort, he felt home and more. But also a place that could convey the most frightening images imaginable... because it could read what he feared most and show him as reality. But he was brave and laid himself down, closed his eyes, feeling concealed in darkness, and relieved for his journey, the journey of life, of one more day of that life lived as best he knew how, over.
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