"Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.
I breathe slowly and deeply. I make my eyes still under eyelids, I make my mind still, and soon, Sleep, seeing a perfect reproduction of himself, comes to be united with his facsimile.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
I breathe slowly and deeply. I make my eyes still under eyelids, I make my mind still, and soon, Sle...
Show More