vendredi 20 novembre 2015

Sleep

Tap, tap, tap, tap.
The slight pitter-patter of droplets of water hitting the base of the sink and rolling into the drain are the only noises heard at this hour. Slowly, softly, even somehow soothingly, the water keeps on dripping.
Intoxicatingly rhythmic, arduously laboring from pipe to faucet to pipe again, all to be recycled into another drain system, somewhere close or far away; neither of w
Sleep

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