Birdsong ….and warm summer air rouse you from a long deep draft of sleep …wet eyes try to focus on this impatient world .insecure and worried that your world of dreams offers more to you than its day and night ….as you stretch …you are caught by the sight of your hand ..and like in so many moments before you see yourself as you are or are not ….your Egyptian linen sheet which greeted you as you woke was in fact the bleached wrinkled palm of your hand …and so like swifts gulliver you recoil at your liliputian attitude to your outstretched appendage
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