Berlin, December 17, 1995

When he came to bed last night I was already sleeping having weird dreams. I guessed he was out and although I was a little worried that he might have had an accident in this horrifying freezing cold with his bicycle, I slept relatively calm after the warm bath. It is kind of dark outside and already 1:00 pm which means that I wasted almost half an hour to make breakfast and slept for 12,5 hours. I was trying to read "Switches" a little bit last night but my brain just must have announced an information overload and fell asleep. I realized it was probably not the most appropriate thing to read in bed. Now, a typical Sunday after too many exhibitions and the exhaustion after what feels to be too much work. When I returned from Canada I slept for 27 hours nonstop, woke up the next day and felt like I had just taken a little nap until I realized much later that it was already the next day. This morning though I felt very exhausted and almost drunk of too much sleep.
The fact that she doesn't pick up and print the next three letters until Monday, which is tomorrow, is a bit calming. It removes a slight pressure off my shoulders: producing although my eyes want to keep being closed. They burn most of the day, I wonder why. Maybe life would be easier if it happened in black and white.