Hi Sleepy.

Tonight I sit in a tin container in the backyard, talking about monkeys. Not real monkeys. Pieces of monkey. You and me. Worried, wandering, trying to control things that don’t listen.

We drift through spring in Stockholm, where the light insists on hope while something quieter resists. A neighbor appears with a memory of a house that no longer exists, and suddenly we’re talking about what it means to miss something. Whether missing is something you feel, or something you do and fail at.

There’s also time. The kind that moves whether you participate or not.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I try to understand why we lie awake rehearsing futures that aren’t real yet, while the present just sits there, unnoticed, waiting for nothing in particular.

You don’t have to follow. You can drift in and out. This is just a voice in the dark, keeping you company while you fall asleep, or almost fall asleep, or think about a house that only exists inside you now.

It is what it is. What happens, happens. And right now, there’s nothing we can do about it.

Sleep Tight!

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

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