A Weekend with Jane Eyre

To My Diary ….

It’s three in the night, and I am supposed to be sleeping like everyone else. No? But there is something about night, personal, close, intimidatingly intimate. There is something particularly close as I feel the touch of the lamp’s heat on my skin. The smell of the old book,.. and a tear rolls down my eye, following to the cheek, and the page swells as it absorbs it.
The characters who had been hidden under the pages of the book come alive at night, in full force and freedom. Under the lampshade of my room, from the fragrance of the old book and an older world, as Rochester walks away, he carries something of me with him… and as Jane cries, I feel the heart and the pain of loss…. And I never want the morning to break into my dream..

Glum....

Night Time Crash

It is a night time crash. I feel someone has just crashed in me. And I can not close my eyes...someone has just crashed in me. There are heights to be aimed, and a lot to be done.. and the flaring heat inside me, keeps my eyes wide open, as if tiredness, or sleep never touched me… there is something heavy on my eye lids. A stupor inside? I try to lull into sleep.. I slowly bring my eyes to a close... and in another accountable moment, I throw my eyes wide open. And something inside says.. you can’t sleep.

There is a sprite building up, and a tired body can not support it even by collecting all strength. A crash building up inside me…with a sense that time has left me behind...