An excerpt from Henry David Thoreau's enduring contribution to the great American canon: Walden.

Picture yourself nestled in bed, encased in blankets, warmed by the embers of a fading fire. You're in a tiny cottage on the northern banks of Walden Pond, a cool, limpid body of water off whose pristine surface, a chilly breeze is now blowing. The chime of the crickets, the lapping of the waves, the crackling of the fire, (the sound of my voice!)--these are the sounds by which your sleepy ears are tickled.

If you have a book you want read in a sleepy style, or if you have an original work that you'd like me to read, drop me a line at [email protected].

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