At this odd hour, when the darkness of night ends and the chaos of day begins. I sit here. Upright in my bed. 4 am. Twists and turns in the bed. Tears. Splash of cold water on my face. Hand towel...
One of the first signs of the beginning of understanding is the wish to die. Franz Kafka, the author of metamorphosis had said that. Today is his birthday. I don’t know if...