Once, I was haunted by insomnia. Full moon woke me up for few days a week and it dazzled me with crumps of awareness torn from reality, which grew with every next night, lustrous fountain of unresolvable things with no return. Just at night, I heard this rustle of unrest, omen of things as they are, when we stripped them from additional meanings, sentiments, delusions. I was afraid of these nights. I didn`t want to lose control with next full moon. Everything has changed. I learnt how to sleep well. Sometimes only, i draw along the bed full of rustling unrest.
|Łóżko, tusz na papierzem 50x70 cm/ The bed, ink on paper, 50x70 cm|