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The air is so pure, the sky so blue, it makes us gasp. The sparkle of the sunshine feels almost violent. All beautiful days hold a certain horror now. We walk west down Fifteenth Street, wishing for a storm.
It was one of the first things we discovered we had in common, this reluctance to go to bed at a reasonable hour—and what a joy it was to stay awake for each other’s sake!
To this day I’m chronically sleep-deprived for no reason except that staying up too late, past the point of exhaustion, remains a pleasurable form of self-harm.
