Most nights, I don’t sleep more than a couple of hours, and some nights I don’t sleep at all. These are the strangest. I reckon your mind needs to dream, ’cause on the days where I haven’t had a wink, things happen that I can’t rightly credit. The sky often takes on that wild vermilion of the sea in the great harbour during the final battle. At night the moon seems constantly full, and the bats whirling about it are the size of ravens, and yet I know the bats in Syracuse are tiny. It all makes me wonder if exhaustion has torn the firmament in my mind and let them loose. But I think I’m happy.
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