Hi, Sleepy. Tonight I begin with a black t-shirt and a forest that insists it’s a ballroom. We wade into the dark pond of starting—awkward at first, then quietly inevitable. I whisper little unimportant truths (the best kind), invent hidden worlds on top of air-ducts, and point out a troll behind a birch just to keep the ordinary honest.

We talk about fear—cellar-door fear—and the moment you slam it and lie down anyway. We compare the “mess” of a teenage room with the sacred clutter of the forest floor, and meet a bird who builds perfect nests only to undo them, the way art sometimes does.

Somewhere in there I admit I’m scared of being unloved and still decide to swim. It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now there’s nothing we need to do—except drift off to sleep on this small, imaginative journey to sleep and a peaceful night. Sleep Tight!

More about Henrik, click here: https://linktr.ee/Henrikstahl

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