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to start each time again hardly makes it worth the while to sleep at all, most of the time i feel as though i sleep only to keep the peace amongst neighbours, no one appreciates a twenty-four hour construction site, not here, not anywhere, but yes, i have found these no places, ephemeral places, untenable and, it is their short livedness that serves as inspiration to burn midnight oils into the dawn of another death drive, the of home, death of an epich, death of possibility, death of routine, death of banality, usually followed by coffee.