An Immoral Code
“It always happened these days. The older you got, the less sleep you needed, that was a fact. He could wish that it were not so. He loved sleep, he loved the cocoon of nothingness, the dreams that so pleasantly distorted reality, that allowed him to be with Dorothy again, or to be stumbling happily through nonsensical patchwork landscapes of the past. Nothing in life was so kind as sleep. He hated especially these early parts of the day, when the light through the curtains was greyish and depre...ssing, and the trilling of the waking starlings in the street outside merely shrill and repetitive, quite unlike the varied music of birdsong in the countryside. He was aware, too, of an unpleasant, feverish restlessness that told him he had drunk too much whisky the night before. He knew he should not do that, but some evenings it all grew unbearable, and whisky blunted the wretchedness, made him feel as though the blood coursing in his veins was young and vigorous, not sluggish and old. Then in the mornings he would repent it.MoreLess
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