She slipped into bed early. Slipping seems like too elegant of a word, but she got herself there early nonetheless. She was lulled by the ocean-like wind outside her window and the promise of a good book. She was actually inordinately tired and emotionally drained. She held on to the two positive events of the day. A painting sale and a musical break from reality from across the ocean. She read a chapter and a half and then fell heavily asleep. I know she hoped for dreams but slept too hard to remember them.

Several hours later, but still relatively early in the night her phone rang, waking her up and confusing her. A message was left by a studio mate asking if she wanted representation of her art in Chicago and that this mate had a legit lead if she wanted it. She was thankful for the thought but nonplussed by this seemingly odd and late night call. It was all of 10:30pm.

She went back to sleep easily enough and woke up again at 3am as clear as day. "We haven't been on this cycle in a while" she thought, but she got up and made a bowl of tea and an almond butter and real fruit jam sandwich (see above). She thinks this isn't like eating in the middle of the night as she has already slept about 7 hours. Although as she eats the sandwich and drinks the warm tea she thinks after this is said and done she could possibly read or sleep some more. She feels very clear headed, sirens pass by. She thinks of her friends.

She plans to go to the studio this morning. She really needs to work again and soon, perhaps while she is bolstered by the sale. She looks down at the computer glow on her fingers as she sits in the dark. Her computer groans.

x.