Rain on the roof of Adventure Wolf, and inside: me, you, and a slow blue longing that refuses to have a name. We follow it anyway, through foggy moorland, over a childhood beach, into the black water and out among pine roots and beautiful decay.

I mumble Latin, mispronounce clouds, nearly fall asleep mid-sentence, and confess my synthwave tears. Also: one brief detour into the ancient comedy of farts (for science). If you drift off to sleep along the way, good. If you don’t, also good. This is an imaginative, introspective journey to sleep where nothing needs to add up. It is what it is. What happens, happens. Let’s begin, Sleepy.

Sleep Tight!

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

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