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Sleep makes children of all of us.

It cloaks us with divine beauty and innocence

I know because I often love watching my partner,Daisy,when she sleeps.

It is amazing that we do not include the pleasures we enjoy in sleep in
the inventory of the pleasures we have experienced in the course of our existence.

By shutting her eyes, by losing consciousness,
Daisy strips off, one after another, the
different human personalities with which she has used to deceive me ever since the day when I had first made her acquaintance.

She is animated now only by the unconscious life of plants, of trees, a life more different from my own, more alien, and yet one that belonged more to me.

Her personality is not constantly escaping, as when we talk, by the outlets of her unacknowledged thoughts and of her eyes.

She has called back into herself everything of
her that lays outside, has withdrawn, enclosed,
re-absorbed herself into her body.

In keeping her in front of my eyes, in my hands, I have an impression of possessing her entirely which I never have when she is awake.

Her life is submitted to me, exhaled towards me its gentle breath.

I listen to her dozy murmuring, mysterious emanation, soft as a sea breeze, magical as a gleam of moonlight, that is her in sleep.

So long as it lasts, I’m free to dream about her and yet at the same time to look at her, and when that sleep grows deeper, to touch, to kiss her.

What I feel now is a love as pure, as immaterial, as mysterious, as if I’m. in the presence of those inanimate creatures which are the beauties of nature.

And indeed, as soon as her sleep becomes at all deep, she ceases to be merely the plant that she had been; her sleep,on the margin of which I remain musing, with a fresh delight of which I never tire, which I can go on enjoying indefinitely, is to me a whole
landscape that we call love.

Her sleep brings within my reach something as serene, as sensually delicious as those nights of full moon on the beach, calm as a lake over which the branches barely stir, where, stretched out upon the stand, one could listen for
hours on end to the surf breaking and receding.

On entering her room, I remain standing in
the doorway, not venturing to make a sound, and hearing none but that of her breath rising to expire upon her lips at regular intervals, like the reflux of the sea, but drowsier and softer.

And at the moment when my ear absorbs that divine sound, I feet that It is condensed in her whole person, the whole life of the charming captive outstretched there before my eyes.

Vehicles go rattling past in the street, but her brow remains as smooth and untroubled, her breath as light, reduced to the simple expulsion of the necessary quantity of air.

Now, seeing that her sleep would not be disturbed, I would advance cautiously, sit down on the chair that stood by the bedside, then on the bed itself.

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Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….©Profarms’ Random Thoughts®

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