It’s late Sunday night, and I can’t sleep. Actually I haven’t even tried yet. The autumn storms are nearing, in the daytime it’s still too hot here in Italy, but there is the promise of storm in the air. In the evening the wind rises and makes me … itchy. Restless.
These winds always made me restless, I have passed countless nights of my life awake, longing to be out in it, on a hilltop, on the shore of an ocean. Anywhere but in my bed. And so it is now. I’m an adult, nobody’s keeping me from going out in it, but I can’t scratch this itch, even if I got on the hilltop this restlessness wouldn’t pass. So I’ve watched a movie (Oh Happy Day) thinking I was safe, the cover said “comedy”. Obviously it moved me to tears. Should have stuck to action flicks.
I poured myself a Lagavulin and opened the window to hear and feel the wind. If I can’t escape or ignore it then I might as well have all of it. The gusts of wind are entering and blowing the scent of the whiskey my way. I get so sensitive. I haven’t even tasted it yet and already I know what it’ll taste like. Smoke on moss, black earth and a fleeting whiff of fresh pears. A waste of divine whiskey anyway, I’m just hoping to get sleepy.
If I sat down to draw now, I would start out hesitant, and get caught up in it all of a sudden. And before I knew it, the night would have passed (drawing is a remedy) but I would still have to shower, makeup and go to work. Without sleep. And I have a tough day tomorrow, and work to do tomorrow night as well.
I’ll save my energy, I still have more apartment-hunting to do, I still have my summer-clothes to pack away, more cleaning to do. Anything but this vacuum, this silence, this … waiting.
I’ll try to sleep