…like an insomniac idling, biding his time while stars twinkle gently, passing ever so slowly overhead. To and fro in my hammock I wait, watching the warmth of dawn stir on the horizon. Is this old age, caffeine residue, or are my dreams so intense they are tiring to witness? In this stillness, shells sway quietly with me on a sleeping mobile, waiting for a breeze to bring them to life. The night is cool, silent, but for a distant hotel generator, or a dripping a/c or the footsteps of a workbound soul. A baby is comforted as it wakes from its dream. I am not alone. Soft eyelids close over sparkling eyes. Dreaming a library of infinite possibilities…