spilled milk | sleep

olive napping

We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams. 
― Arthur O’Shaughnessy, Ode

We snuggled up in my bed for an afternoon nap last week, a rare (and delightful) occurrence these days. With my eyes closed, I listened to the quieting, steady rhythm of your breath, your thumb-sucking interspersed — fast-fast-slow, fast-fast-slow.

When people wonder from where come the ideas and dreams that turn the world on its head — it is here, in casual afternoon naps, cradled in the music of breath and sleep.

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{sleep} on Spilled Milk today

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